


Strong communicator

by wtfkovah



Series: Sweater Vest Stories [11]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward Flirting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cute, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Out of Character, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Sexting, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Surprise Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 09:32:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24967504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: Seungcheol doesn't want to celebrate his birthday but of course his PA has other plans.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: Sweater Vest Stories [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736101
Comments: 119
Kudos: 479





	1. I have a plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol doesn't want to celebrate his birthday but of course his PA has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I have caught up with where the series left off, so this is actually a new chapter I haven't posted before 😊

“If you’ve got time for breakfast, at least have something _decent_. That’s got nothing but sugar and E-numbers in it, you’ll be snacking all morning,” Seokmin chides when Jihoon backs out of the pantry, bearing a box of his favourite Fruit Loops. 

It’s the same voice he used to admonish Jihoon for going out to buy milk, and coming back with ten different colours of edible glitter instead. Like he’s disappointed with Jihoon’s priorities, but ultimately not surprised.

Jihoon considers the eggs already sizzling on the skillet and the box of Fruit Loops in his hands and decides that _yes_ , Seokmin’s scrambled eggs are probably a healthier start to the day.

Not that he’s ever claimed to be a paragon of healthy living of course; he carries approximately 10,000 calories worth of snacks on him at any one time, and on the rare days he actually has time for breakfast, he usually he grabs something fresh and doughy on his way into the office. Most days coffee is all he wants.

Seokmin grins at him as he sets the cereal aside, as though he’s proud of Jihoon’s new-found adultness and bumps his side playfully with one elbow, edging him over so he can fill the pot for coffee.

“Did you sleep okay last night? I heard a thud in the middle of the night, I thought maybe you’d fallen out of bed again.”

“Yeah, I sort of did.” Jihoon giggles, smothering a yawn on the back of his hand. “My new bed is so big and bouncy in the middle, I sort of rolled right off without meaning too. I guess it’ll take some time to break it in, but other than that, it’s super comfy. You should consider getting yourself one.”

Seokmin makes a thoughtful noise, almost lost under the sound of the coffee starting to brew, “I don’t think I could afford a giant hello Kitty bed Hoonie, do you realise how much one of those things cost?”

“No, actually,” Jihoon shakes his head, moving to fetch two cups from the drainer, milk from the fridge. “I did _try_ and look it up on the Sanrio website, but I couldn’t find it listed anywhere. The biggest plushie they had for sale was only two foot tall. Mine’s _eight_.”

“Exactly,” Seokmin says, tossing him a wry smile over his shoulder that’s obviously _hinting_ at something. Jihoon mulls that over as sets the table and pours out two cups of coffee, watching as Seokmin transfers the eggs onto two plates and pushes the plate with the larger portion towards him before adding, “You do realise that plushie isn’t just a piece of merchandise _anyone_ can buy, right? That’s some serious custom shit Seungcheol bought you, so unaffordable they can’t price it with their regular merch. I mean, I’m not a collector, but I’m estimating it probably costs more than a medium sized _car_.”

“Oh no.” Jihoon murmurs, chewing the inside of his lip. “I really didn’t think it would be _that_ expensive. I know Seungcheol’s not hurting for money exactly, but I don’t expect him to spend that much on me. I feel kind of bad now that I only gave him a little card.”

Seokmin shoots him a soft look across the table, “Aw, hey, don’t feel bad; your card was priceless Jihoonie, Seungcheol’s probably never gotten anything that sweet before.” A slow grin curls over his lips as he picks up his fork, “But you _know_ , if you _really_ want to make his day—you could always send him a nice _picture_ or two. Maybe one of you lounging on your new bed, wearing that _other_ little thing he bought you? Hint hint.”

Jihoon tries for a casual sip of coffee, hoping to disguise the heat he can feel creeping into his cheeks. He suspects the sip comes off looking more nervous than casual. “Well uhm…. now that you mention it….. I _may_ have taken a picture or two.”

With a thoughtful look, Seokmin brings his own cup to his lips, as though modelling what a truly casual sip should be, then completely ruins the effects by spraying coffee all over the kitchen table. 

“Holy shit, wait, what?” He splutters, wiping at his chin, “Seriously? You finally did it? You sent Seungcheol a sexy picture?”

“Hmn, well no,” Jihoon murmurs, blushing deeply. He curls his hands around his cup; it’s a small but welcome comfort, the faint warmth that bleeds through the porcelain more and more as the seconds pass. “I was too shy to go through with it in the end, ended up deleting it.”

He doesn’t get a chance to say that he _did_ send Seungcheol another picture instead, something more modest, something _safer_ , before Seokmin’s reaching across the table to wrap his long fingers, carefully around his wrist and asking, “Has this got anything to do with Sehun?”

Jihoon has to swallow hard to rid himself of the sudden clench in his throat, that weird sad knot that pops up whenever he’s reminded about his shitty ex-boyfriend; he was a part of Jihoon’s life he'd much rather forget.

“W-what’s he got to do with anything?”

Seokmin draws his hand back, sits up tall in his chair, his expression mobile, as if many things are running through his mind. For a moment, all he does is play with his food. When he finally speaks, he seems to be choosing his words with extra care.

“Listen, Jihoon, Sehun was a total jerk, the worst of the worst. What he did was really awful, and you were so brave to solider through it all. But you must realise that Seungcheol would never do _that_ to you. If you sent him that picture, he would never—”

“I know he wouldn’t!” Jihoon says, clutching his cup tightly, “I’m just—I’m just not ready to send that kind of picture to Seungcheol yet. That’s all. It’s not because of what Sehun did. I—I haven’t thought about that jerk in ages.”

Seokmin grants him another long, assessing look, but then nods once, slowly, “Okay, fair enough. I’m sorry I had to bring that up, I know you don’t like talking about it—I just wanted you know I don’t think Seungcheol’s _that_ kind of guy. I might joke that he’s a big perv sometimes, but he obviously cherishes you.”

That brings a small smile to Jihoon's face.

“I know.” He says, simply, though something deep inside him is squirming uncomfortably as he says it.

It’s not that he doubts the truth in Seokmin’s assertion, more that he doubts how unaffected he truly is when it comes to stupid jerk of an ex. How _maybe_ , subconsciously, he’s allowed that experience to taint every decision he makes when it comes to being more open with Seungcheol. Which is stupid—so stupid, because it’s always been clear from the beginning that Seungcheol and Sehun are worlds apart in every respect, and letting one awful experience ruin his chances with someone who really makes him happy is seriously fucked up.

Sure, Seungcheol has his moments, and he can be pretty cranky sometimes, but it’s a benign stress-induced, migraine-related crankiness, easily tempered by a nice cup of tea and Hello Kitty cool pack. Sehun, on the other hand, had been the most toxic person in Jihoon’s little life; so cruel and malicious, he could give Mustard Blouse and Chul-moo a run for their money.

He liked to use Jihoon as the butt of his jokes whenever they were out with his friends; poking fun of his size, his outfits, his interests, his hobbies—constantly making asides about how Jihoon would be more attractive if he changed his hair, wore different clothes, worked out, etc etc. Sometimes he was so mean even his own friends would tell him to stop, which only served to make him more bitter and angry and resentful. Jihoon tried to branch out and make some new, different friends, because Sehun always complained that he was embarrassing him in front of his own. But that wasn’t good enough for Sehun either, because he didn't like it when Jihoon tried to socialise without him, and would ghost Jihoon for days if he didn't answer the phone within three rings—even though he almost always ignored Jihoon’s calls anyway, and whenever they _did_ hang out together, he’d spend most of time huffing, dismissing Jihoon, waiting for someone more interesting to come along.

Naively, Jihoon had chalked it up to Sehun’s _own_ experience as a target for harassment in high school; Sehun had been the first friend Jihoon made in Freshman orientation, and he’d confided in Jihoon that he’d been a tremendously unpopular dork that never had an easy go of things. Jihoon could sympathise with that, more than a little, so he forgave Sehun time and again, even though every mean comment made him twinge and second guess himself. Made him feel so small and stupid.

Then Sehun’s ‘playful’ barbs started turning into full on, hateful rants, and Jihoon couldn’t ignore that fact that Sehun was just a plain _awful_ person. Instead of moving on and reflecting and _learning_ from his past experiences, he’d found someone smaller and weaker to pick on, and turned into a bully himself.

The break-up hadn’t really been a break-up at all. Not in the official sense. Just one day, Jihoon had sent Sehun a message, asking if they could meet up because they really needed to talk, and Sehun, as if sensing the direction of the upcoming conversation, replied with _‘Is there any point? I’m already seeing someone else.’_

Jihoon was too happy and too _relieved_ to be rightly offended by that—instead he carefully packed and dutifully returned Sehun’s things, leaving a nice note with Sehun’s roommate that wished him the best of luck. But then two weeks later, just as he was starting to settle again and make some new friends, someone had gone and posted a bunch of very private, very intimate photographs of him on the University website. Photographs that only Jihoon’s one and only boyfriend could have had access to.

It was the worst, most humiliating experience of Jihoon’s life, to feel betrayal like that, and even though the campus IT department was able to remove the photographs quite quickly, it wasn’t long before they were circulating again, showing up on his Tumblr feed, getting tagged on his Facebook, until Jihoon felt like the entire _world_ was pointing and laughing at him. The University investigated of course; Sehun was suspended and Jihoon was mercifully granted a gap year to recoup, and when he came back, his pictures were old news and Sehun had dropped out and transferred to Hanyang, but Jihoon never really got over it.

The experience had left him, understandably, a little overly sensitive, anxious, prone to bouts of paranoia when it came to his social media presence. It’s why he keeps his Facebook account private, why he only has six followers on Instagram, why he mostly posts pictures of his craft projects and his baking and cute things he sees out and about, and _probably_ —he’ll admit to it now—why he immediately deleted the picture he originally intended to send Seungcheol, the second after he took it.

It’s crazy to think of sweet, kind, generous Seungcheol as someone who would ever snicker over his photograph, no matter what the reason, but his humiliation at Sehun’s hands is clearly still hanging over his head, lingering, haunting him.

Three years later, he thought he’d be over it by now, but turns out he’s still second guessing himself. 

* * *

Seungcheol stops listening half-way through Jihoon's earnest explanation about the employee morale boosting effects of having a ‘Pizza Day’ at work. He doesn't even feel bad about it because Jihoon’s _always_ talking his ear off about the ‘events’ the CCCC are organizing, and he almost _always_ has a carefully prepared presentation (and occasionally a power-point) for why each event is such a good idea. Seungcheol doesn’t know why he goes to such efforts to seek his approval—it’s not like Seungcheol’s ever going to say no to him. Everything from Pyjama Day to National Strawberry Ice Cream day has been penciled into Choi Corp’s events calendar, so they’ve long passed the point of sound and reasonable arguments.

Honestly, sometimes Seungcheol thinks his little Peanut is just making up holidays to celebrate, but he still ends up sighing off on them anyway. Jihoon could tell him there was a ‘National wear your underpants on your head at work day’, and he'd just accept it. There's a chance that this is how madness starts.

His non-attention was apparently less than subtle though, because now Jihoon's staring at him, and not speaking. Oh, and _there's_ the little pout of disappointment.

Seungcheol throws an arm over the back of the couch and sighs, "Hey, don’t pout, I was listening. Pizza Thursday sounds like a great idea. I approve.”

“I stopped talking about Pizza Thursday five _minutes_ ago," Jihoon murmurs, clutching his little flashcards defensively. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Ah— _sorry_.” Seungcheol winces apologetically. “I suppose I was a little distracted. What came after Pizza Thursday’s?”

Grinning impishly, Jihoon holds up a flash card with a picture of a birthday cake up, “I was trying to make a few suggestions for your _birthday_ celebration actually.”

Seungcheol triple takes, “Woah, wait, what?”

“Your Birthday.” Jihoon grins, bouncing on his toes, practically vibrating out of his skin. His cheeks are pinkening with excitement. “It’s coming up soon, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I have this idea that we could throw a big—"

“Woah, woah, woah—” Seungcheol cuts in, before Jihoon can get too excited, “I’m going to stop you right there. No. The answer is no. You’re not to plan anything for my Birthday. I don’t celebrate my Birthday.”

“But…but it’s a _big_ birthday.” Jihoon stammers, his smile dimming. “You’ll be turning—”

“I know how old I’m going to be, thanks, you _don’t_ have to remind me.” Seungcheol holds up a hand, cutting him off. “The last thing I want is for everyone _else_ to know, and celebrate the fact that I’m—” He trails off as he catches a part mischievous part _guilty_ twinkle in Jihoon’s eye. “You’re not—you haven’t already _planned_ something have you?”

“Define _plan_.” Jihoon says cautiously. In that tone of voice that means he's stalling as long as possible because he knows the answer isn't going to go well for him.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him, barely holding back an indignant noise. “ _Jihoon_ —I’m going to say this once, and I’m not going to say it again. I don’t want to celebrate my birthday. I don’t want cake, or balloons, or giant banners, and I definitely don’t want a party. I do _not_ want you to plan anything.”

A deep frown settles on Jihoon's brow. He actually looks a little hurt, like Seungcheol’s told him he’s not allowed to celebrate his _own_ birthday either.

“You don’t even want _cake_? Not even a _little_ cake?”

Seungcheol bites back a sigh, “Well, okay, maybe a _little_ cake. But absolutely no candles.”

Jihoon worries his lip between his teeth, “What about presents? Will you let me buy you a present at least?”

Tilting his head back, Seungcheol stares at the ceiling and makes a face like he's thinking _‘Eugh, presents, such a hardship’_

“Okay, I think I can tolerate presents too. But nothing more.”

“What about a performing clown and a bouncy castle?”

Seungcheol laughs; then, when he realizes Jihoon isn't joking, rises to his feet. “Alright, this conversation is over. Get back to work.”

“Aww.” Jihoon pouts at him for the rest of the day.

* * *

Despite Seungcheol’s insistence that he does not want to celebrate his birthday in any way, shape or form, Jihoon still sticks to his plan and meets with Janna and Celia the next day for brunch, to help plan his surprise party bash.

Celia is one of the many girlfriends Janna’s introduced him to over the course of their friendship, though she’s evidently Janna’s closest friend and confidant. A willowy brunette in her mid-thirties, she too like Janna is an heiress and society heavyweight, though as chief executive of her own Lingerie company and 2017 Entrepreneur of the Year under her belt, she’s a self-made woman in her own right.

Jihoon’s only met her a handful of times, but he really likes her. She’s bold and witty and overly generous, with sweetly pink cheeks but clearly an evil disposition. Especially when combined with Janna.

Jihoon’s sure glad they’re his friends because he’d be terrified to be their enemy. They spend the first hour of lunch chatting and fawning over him, whilst giving the evils to a group of women seated nearby. The women attempt to give the evils _back_ , but Janna and Celia have clearly perfected their evils, and the other women soon scurry away.

“Serves them right.” Celia hisses, taking a sip or her Martini.

“I don’t get it.” Jihoon whispers, “Why were those women giving you dirty looks?”

Janna waves a hand, “Who knows. Anyway, about Cheollie’s Birthday party.”

Jihoon’s shoulders slump a little remembering his last conversation with Seungcheol. “I tried broaching the topic with him, but Cheol seems pretty adamant that he doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday.”

Janna leans in, a spark of challenge in her eyes. “Are you going to let that stop you?”

“No.” Jihoon murmurs, fiddling with his napkin. “But I just wanted it to go on the record that I tried to respect his wishes.”

“Noted. Now,” Janna claps her hands together. “Let’s talk _themes_.”

“Well, I’ve been collecting some ideas in my party planner if you’d like to take a look.” Jihoon helpfully supplies. “Just you know, clippings from magazines and some inspirational blogs I follow. I know we all have our own unique sense of style and mine’s not very sophisticated, but I really tried to pick a theme I thought Seungcheol might appreciate.”

“Okay, well give it here.” Janna smiles, waving her hand in encouragement.

Jihoon pulls the planner out of his bag and smacks it down on the table. The glasses shake, threatening to topple over. He didn’t mean to smack it down like that, honestly, but it’s a huge, heavy planner, which had originally started as a small notebook, but that quickly mutated over the course of the last month, because, oh god, he he’s so excited for this party and he has so many _ideas_ , and he really wants to make it extra special for Seungcheol.

Celia stops toying with the olive in her martini glass, looking stunned. “Woah, that’s….that’s a big book. How many parties are you planning at the moment?”

“Just the one for now,” Jihoon says, smiling to himself and looking away. “I suppose you could say I got a little carried away, but I don’t expect you guys to flip through the whole book or anything. And please don’t feel like you have to follow through with any of the suggestions I make either.”

Janna pulls the planner towards with much trepidation, then she flips it open and her eyebrows shoot up. “Wait—The Great Gatsby?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon tries to nod in an assured manner. “I never read the book or anything, but I watched the film adaptation a few months ago, and I really loved the style of that era. I thought it might make a cool theme for a party.”

“It would! It would make an _amazing_ party them. The 1920’s style is really in right now.” Janna says, and Celia nods in full agreement.

“R- _Really_?” Jihoon murmurs, “You’re not just saying that to spare my feeling, are you? Because I can totally handle constructive criticism.”

“What’s there to criticise? This is all amazing.” Janna says, waving him off in favour of flipping through the planner.

Jihoon scrubs his fingers through his hair, ducking his head, embarrassed and pleased and nervous all at once. _Usually_ when he makes suggestions, people are pretty quick to shoot them down or humour him just long enough for him feel included. But Janna and Celia genuinely seem to like what he’s proposing for the party and it floods him with happiness.

Then a few minutes later, a gnawing sense of dread.

As he watches, Janna and Celia flip madly through the book, picking out the ideas they love, which—and this is the worrying part—seems to be _all_ of them. Jihoon had amassed quite a bit of inspiration in his party planner, hoping that maybe one, or at best, _two_ of ideas would make it to the final cut. He didn’t expect Janna and Celia to fall in love with _everything_ , but they have and now the whole Great Gatsby inspired theme is snowballing out of control and _honestly_ , Jihoon’s a little scared for his bank balance.

There’s talk of hiring a live jazz band, and acrobats, and burlesque dancers, and ten dozen waitresses in flapper dresses, and the entire top floor of Grand Hyatt, and sure, that all sounds amazing, but has anyone stopped to thing how they’re going to _pay_ for all of it?

“Jihoon, this is all fantastic.” Janna smiles sweetly at him, well—at his party planner, “I especially love the idea of handing out goodie bags. It’s such a thoughtful touch, don’t you think Cel?”

Celia makes some vague noise of inattention, busy as she is picking out _ice-sculpture_ designs. She places little stickers next to five of them, before looking up, “Oh yes, party favours are a must. We can use this cute little art-deco inspired Choi monogram Jihoon designed on the bags, and fill them with bespoke luxury items for the guests.” 

“Yes. Absolutely.” Janna says, tapping her index finger against her chin. “I’m thinking a bottle of Dom Pérignon, a few luxury cosmetics, tickets two some kind of spa retreat, and then the Pièce de résistance, diamond encrusted cufflinks for the men, and a diamond tiara for the—”

“Stop!” Jihoon blurts out suddenly, surprising even himself.

Janna and Celia stop chattering and swivel their heads to look at him, with matching pouts and matching raised eyebrows, which is more than a little freaky. Obviously, they’re not used to being interrupted, or at least not so abruptly. Jihoon tries for an apologetic look as he says, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to burst anyone’s creative bubble, I’m just a little worried about how far out of budget we’re getting here.”

Celia’s the first to take pity on him. “The tiny kitten is right. Seungcheol’s not going to be happy with the dent this party makes in his bank balance. Maybe we should just try and keep this low-key, and go with Swarovski encrusted cufflinks and tiara’s.”

Janna rears back in mock terror. “Fake diamonds! Eugh—I _hate_ budgeting.”

Jihoon makes a face, but then Celia’s words sink in, and a truly appalling possibility occurs to him. “Wait, hold on a second. What do you mean Seungcheol won’t be happy with his bank balance? We’re not actually planning this party with his money, are we?”

Celia wrinkles her nose. “Well, _yeah_. Who else’s money are we going to—”

The table shudders. Jihoon suspects somebody has just been kicked.

“Of course not, sweetie.” Janna coos, giving him an innocent look. “It’s my money. Bank of Janna. I’m taking care of all the costs.”

“You are?” Celia says, giving her a dubious look. Jihoon’s not sure how to interpret the intense look Janna shoots back at her, but Celia seems to understand it, and quickly adopts an amused expression, “Oh, _right_. Bank of Janna. How could I forget.”

Janna lets out her breath, smiling broadly, “See Hoonie, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll cover the cost for everything.”

Jihoon blinks and considers, “Are you sure? That’s a lot of money we’re planning on spending.”

“It’s fine, trust me.” Janna reaches across the table to pat his hand reassuringly. “Bank of Janna has unlimited funds.”

“It does? Wow, that….” Sounds too good to be true, honestly, but Jihoon’s brain is already veering wildly off-tack, “Does that mean we can afford to have the snow cone machine at the party?”

Janna positively beams at him, reaching out and _pinching his cheek,_ “Absolutely. It’s an adorable idea. We’ll have Champagne snow cones for the guests, and then extra special sparkly apple juice snow cones just for you.”

“Really? Oh, yay!” Jihoon gasps, clapping his hands together in excited surprise. 

“ _Speaking_ of guests,” Celia interjects, looking abruptly sober, “Have we made any headway on that? Agreeing on a theme is all good and well, but there’s no point organising all of this if we can’t get the guest list in order.”

“Oh, well—I don’t think that should be a problem.” Jihoon chirps.

“You _don’t_?” says Janna, meeting Jihoon’s eyes and pressing his lips together, “Because that’s the one thing I was actually worrying about. Seungcheol and I don’t move in the same circles anymore, so I wouldn’t have the first clue _who_ he’d want at his party.”

“Don’t worry,” Jihoon smiles playfully, “I have a plan.”

* * *

Jihoon’s plan is not so much a plan, as it is stealing Seungcheol’s cell phone for a few hours and calling every number he finds on the contact list.

It’s probably not the best way of seeking out Seungcheol’s nearest and dearest, but Seungcheol never really talks about his friends at work….or ever, come to think of it. And he also doesn’t seem to organise his contacts like Jihoon does, with little emoji’s next to each name to signify the importance of the relationship. ⭐ for friends, ⭐ ⭐ for his bestest friends, and ❤ for the _really_ important people in his life. Incidentally, Seungcheol’s name has two little ❤ next to it, because he’s _extra_ special, as well as a 🍆, for uhm…private reasons. Anyway, the point is—there’s no telling who Seungcheol favours from a cursory glance through the list, so Jihoon’s just going to have to invite everyone and hope a reasonable mix of friends and business associates show up.

Now—if _only_ he can convince Seungcheol to actually leave the office for long enough, which _doesn’t_ seem to be happening. 

Ever since Jihoon quietly secreted his phone away, Seungcheol’s been huffing and puffing, messing all the papers on his desk and pacing up and down the office, obviously searching for it. Jihoon had hoped Seungcheol would have been in the middle of the manager’s meeting before he noticed it missing, but he’d forgotten how _addicted_ the man is to his phone.

“Call it again.”

“I already called it twice. It’s obviously not here, or maybe it’s on silent? Do you think you left it in your car?”

Seungcheol glares at the empty space on his desk, like if he stares hard enough, the phone will show itself. “But I didn’t _put_ it on silent. And I know I left it right here before I went to the bathroom.”

Eyeing the clock, Jihoon is quick to point out, “You should get going Seungcheol, you’re going to be late for your meeting.”

“I don’t _care_.” Seungcheol pouts, and clenches his fists, two gestures that are simultaneously so childish and hyper-masculine that honestly, no one but Seungcheol could pull them off at the same time. “I can’t go in there without my phone. I’ll die of boredom.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes affectionately and sighs. “Here, how about you take my phone? I got plenty of fun apps on it that should keep you entertained. I even have your favourite—candy crush.”

He expects Seungcheol to huff for another five minutes, at the _least_. He doesn’t expect the man to leap at the opportunity, scrambling to take Jihoon’s phone out of his outstretched hand, like he thinks Jihoon might change his mind. But one phone is as good as any apparently, and Seungcheol bounds out of the room, already tapping away on his borrowed cell.

Jihoon gives it five minutes, before he reaches for Seungcheol’s phone and starts making calls, and first on his list is Mr So Ji-sub, who he knows from prior experience is incredibly hard to get a hold of.

His receptionist is walking the line between a polite ‘fuck off’ and a careful interrogation of his credentials, but it’s not until Jihoon drops Seungcheol’s name, that she finally relaxes into the friendly cooing tone and puts his call through.

“Hello, is this Mr So Ji-sub?”

“Yeah, who the hell is this?” Asks the impatient, far too grouchy voice on the other end of the line.

“Oh, well—” Jihoon clears his throat. “I’m Lee Jihoon. I’m Choi Seungcheol’s PA.”

“Oh great, what does that asshole want?” Mr So says at the end of a heavy sigh.

Jihoon feels his eyebrows pinch together, “Hey, that’s not nice. That’s not a nice thing to say at all. I was actually calling you to invite you to his birthday party.”

There is a significant pause. “Is this a joke?”

“Uhm, no. It’s his Birthday next week and I’m planning a surprise party for him. I called you because your number is one of his most frequently dialled, and I thought that would warrant an invite. Would—would you like to come?”

“Oh, I see what’s happening here,” Mr So’s voice sharpens with suspicion. “You’re trying to set me up.”

“What? No—” Jihoon croaks.

Mr So snorts, “Yeah, you are. You’re going to give me a fake address to a fake party, and then I’m going to show up at some villa where they’re cutting up cocaine and filming a porn movie, which the police conveniently raid the second I arrive and then BAM. My face is all over the news and my reputation is in tatters. Well I’m not falling for that shit twice! Tell Choi he can cram his invite where the sun don’t shine!”

Jihoon feels oddly self-conscious about making another call, but after due consideration, and a few Google image searches, he settles on calling Cha Seung-won next, because he has a nice friendly smile. This seems like a perfectly reasonable compromise until the man answers.

“Is this a threat? Has Choi got dirt on me? Is that it? Because if he thinks he can threaten me like this, he has another thing coming. I have lawyers just waiting to bite a chunk out of his legal team!”

Jihoon clamps down on the laugh that’s threatening to ruin his credibility, and sighs, “No, I’m just trying to invite you to his surprise birthday party. I don’t know many of his associates in person, but you’re one of the numbers he has on his phone, and I thought you’d like to come.”

“Only if I can bring my lawyers!”

The next person he calls isn’t much better.

“I’d really love to come, but a party would break the terms of my parole agreement.” Mr Yoo says, and maybe Jihoon is quiet too long because he goes on, “I’m currently under house arrest you see, but hey—how about you bring the party to me. That could work, right?”

“What—what are under arrest for?” Jihoon asks uncertainly.

“Murder. Well— _suspected_ murder really.” Mr Yoo tells him. “They haven’t a body yet.” He stage whispers into the phone.

Thankfully, Seungcheol’s brother is a lot saner, and a lot more susceptible to the idea of a party, though it _does_ take them a while to get around the topic.

“Finally, I get to speak with the famous Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon reigns in a snort, “I’m not _famous_.”

“Oh, but you are.” Seungmin drawls, sounding amused. His voice is a pleasant baritone rumble, so much like Seungcheol's. “Anyone who can tolerate spending so much time with that hot-head is famous in my books. Though I have been led to believe he’s a changed man these days, that he’s growing soft in his old age. Or maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s just _you_ he’s soft for.”

Jihoon shrugs a little, heart growing almost painfully to press up inside his ribs. “I dunno, he can still be pretty grumpy with me too.” he says, even though he admits those occasions have been few and far between lately, and almost always because Seungcheol has skipped breakfast.

“Now, now, don’t be modest.” Seungmin chuckles, “You’ve got him wrapped around your little finger and you know it.”

Jihoon’s stomach does an almost uncomfortable flip-flop. He shouldn’t be so wonderfully surprised by the words, seeing as Janna had said much the same to him on countless occasions, but then again, he always is. “I—I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have Seungcheol wrapped around _anything_. Now, about the party, do you think you can make it?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Seungmin says, sounding a little too dismissive for Jihoon’s liking. Then, before Jihoon has a chance to discuss the particulars of the party, he asks, “What are you wearing?”

“Uhm, clothes?” says Jihoon, twisting the phone cord around his finger.

“Please me a little more specific, Pumpkin.”

Jihoon fidgets uncomfortably in his seat, resisting the urge to snap back, _It’s Peanut, actually_. “I’m wearing a sweater vest. Uhm, a light blue one. It’s my favourite.”

Seungmin chuckles quietly in return. “Is that all? Hmm, _raunchy_. Send me a picture, would you love.”

“No.” Jihoon bites out, embarrassed.

“Aw c’mon—” Seungmin wheedles, like Jihoon’s being the unreasonable one here. “It doesn’t have to be a compromising one, I just want to see what you look like. The way my brother talks about you, I _need_ to know.”

Jihoon feels heat rising like wildfire in his cheeks. That Seungmin might be naturally curious about him seems straightforward. But the idea that Seungcheol has actually been talking to his brother about Jihoon is something else entirely. An unexpected and pleasing something else. Jihoon tucks the information away to consider later.

“Can we please get back to the topic at hand, Seungcheol’s birthday party next week?” He huffs, trying to sound irritated and failing.

Seungmin titters quietly, “Alright, just answer me this—have you slept with him yet?”

Jihoon's vision actually whites out for a moment. He opens and closes his mouth several times, but is unable to reply, except with a strangled, “I—I don’t think this is an appropriate topic of conversation Mr Choi.”

There’s a heavy sigh across the line before Seungmin’s voice turns serious, more confidential, “He wants you, you know. My brother. He tells me you’re the loveliest little thing he’s ever seen in his life. In fact, I recall the word _perfect_ being thrown around, so you have to appreciate my fascination. He’s never said that about anyone.”

For a moment Jihoon only stares at the receiver. Blinking. Waiting for Seungmin to laugh it off, for the other shoe to drop, then shakes his head. “Well if he _did_ , obviously he told you that in confidence, and I don’t think he’d appreciate you telling me. He should be the one telling me himself.” He says, trying to sound reasonable even though his voice keeps wobbling up into a higher range.

Seungmin lets out a short bark of laughter. “Ahh, but I know my brother. He’s uh, shall we say a little… _constipated_? Repressed? By the time he gets around to telling you how he feels, you’ll have gotten bored with him and moved on.”

The very suggestion ignites stubbornness beneath Jihoon's skin, and he blurts, without thinking, “I would never do that to Seungcheollie. I love him.”

He can still hear Seungmin _crowing_ with laughter after he slams the phone down, deciding _okay_ , that’s enough phone calls for today. Perhaps sending an email invitation for the rest of the guests will suffice?

Plan. Yes.

He already started designing a very in-theme evite with the party details in preparation, so he only has to make a few final adjustments before he can send it off in mass. He’s busy trying to adjust the size of the header, when his phone buzzes with an incoming message.

Glancing at it briefly, Jihoon’s first (stupid) thought is that, _why did I just send a message to myself?_ His second (less stupid) thought is that, _oh, that’s right, this isn’t my phone._ And his final (barely intelligent) thought is that, _why is Seungcheol sending me a message from my phone?_ Before he remembers that Seungcheol doesn’t know he has his phone. For all he knows, his phone is still missing, so there’s really no sensible reason for him to be sending _himself_ a message from Jihoon’s phone.

Jihoon puzzles over Seungcheol’s illogical thought process as he taps open the message and…

“Oh no no _NO NO NO NO_!”

* * *

As far as Seungcheol’s concerned, three quarters of the Choi Corp board are about as useful as a chocolate teapot. They’re just a group of wealthy window-dressers, armed with serious expressions and large stacks of paper to make up for the fact that they have no purpose for being here. They never earned their place; they bought their way in and have done nothing but tread on his toes since he took over, so he _usually_ spends these meetings knocking them back where they belong, under his shoe.

Today, though, he has more pressing business in mind: scrolling through all of the adorable Selca’s on Jihoon’s phone, each one of them, somehow impossibly cuter than the last!

There’s one of him wearing his adorable little chef’s hat, a smudge of flour on his nose. Another of him sitting on a bench in the park, making friends with a small duck. The latest is the one he’d sent to Seungcheol two weeks ago, a heart-clenching soft one of him snuggled up in his Hello Kitty bed, the covers pulled up to his chin.

Seungcheol’s not stupid enough to have it as the wallpaper of his phone, but he fawns over it regularly; zooming in on Jihoon’s precious little face so he can poke the tiny dimples on the screen. It’s a daily ritual of sorts, and he can’t resist doing it again. But Jihoon’s phone is a different model to his own, a little more touch sensitive on account of Jihoon’s lighter hands, and when he tries to zoom in _this_ time, he ends up dragging the image to the virtual trash bin, deleting it.

_Shit_.

Jihoon’s bound to notice it missing, then he’s _bound_ to wonder why Seungcheol’s been scrolling through his damn picture reel in the middle of a financial meeting. So Seungcheol scrolls back to the Photo app and navigates to the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder to recover it. The photograph pops up immediately and he taps once to recover it, then the previously deleted [image](https://66.media.tumblr.com/71bb67cb5c9769466e0c53fb20067866/4a86b0e3459ea127-22/s2048x3072/69ac10ed6baa3f55fcf4ada8e9a17099eba09a9b.jpg) slides into view and Seungcheol has a heart attack.

He goes into cardiac arrest, right there in the middle of the boardroom. And _dies_.

Well, no—none of that actually happens. But it sure as hell _feels_ like he’s having a heart attack. He can feel his face burning red and there’s a definite rerouting of blood away from his main organs. He might even clutch his chest in shock because JKFLKAKNSLNSKMSMLANSKAML!

One would think Seungcheol would be acclimatized to an image of Jihoon in obscenely little clothing—God knows he’s fantasised about it long and hard enough—but one is _wrong_. Seungcheol almost drops his phone in surprise when he looks at the [picture](https://66.media.tumblr.com/71bb67cb5c9769466e0c53fb20067866/4a86b0e3459ea127-22/s2048x3072/69ac10ed6baa3f55fcf4ada8e9a17099eba09a9b.jpg) again, then quickly glances around self-consciously, in case any of the other people at the table have glimpsed at his phone.

Thankfully, everyone seems to be too absorbed in the meeting to notice his pseudo heart attack. Everyone except the eternally perceptive Jeonghan, who smirks and quirks an eyebrow at him that seems to say _, ‘Care to share with the rest of the class?’_

Seungcheol affects a look of boredom and shakes his head, giving himself a moment to _breathe_ before glancing at the image again. And fuck—it’s even better at second glance. Now that he’s partially recovered from the initial shock, he can _really_ begin to appreciate the image in all it’s glory.

He tries not to blatantly stare at anything in particular, but he can’t help but focus on certain points: the slim, naked chest, the deliciously plump thighs, and those bedroomy yet bashful eyes. He’s always possessed a great imagination where Jihoon’s concerned, but supplied with this new source material, it’s even easier for him to imagine what those hands would look like on his cock, or how those long legs would feel wrapped round his waist. He wonders if Jihoon would ever speak to him again if he told him he wanted to sink his teeth into his peachy ass. Then, he can’t help but wonder when the _hell_ Jihoon took this picture. And why did he delete it?

The backdrop is familiar of course; Jihoon’s bedroom is unmistakable, and with the Hello Kitty bed in the foreground, it must have been taken within in the last three weeks. The time stamp on the image backs that’s up, but what’s _more_ interesting, what’s _really_ got his heart racing now, is that it was taken a short few minutes before the picture Jihoon _sent_ him. Which can only mean….

Jihoon was going to send him this picture.

Jihoon was going to send him this unbelievably sexy picture.

Jihoon was going to send him this unbelievably sexy picture and, _well_ , for some reason he chickened out. He chose to send him something else, something sweet and cute and…. _safe_. He was clearly too scared or shy or whatever to send the first photograph, and in that respect, Seungcheol shouldn’t be looking at this at all. He shouldn’t be looking, and he definitely shouldn’t be contemplating sending the picture to himself, to his _own_ phone.

That would be completely unprofessional and inappropriate and _reprehensible_. He’d be a very bad, bad, bad, bad boss—oh, hey, his finger slipped again and now he’s attached the picture it to a message, typed out a 😉 and sent it to himself accidentally. Oh dear.

Well—there’s no going back now. He’ll just have to delete it later or something, when he gets his own phone back. _Yeah_.

“Why are you cackling to yourself?”

Bolting upright in his chair, Seungcheol jerks his head up and finds that himself and Jeonghan are the only ones left in the boardroom. The meeting’s over, and he’s apparently just sitting there, laughing gleefully to himself, like a madman.

“I’m going to need a recap on what was discussed. I wasn’t—” He waves his hand, trying to come up with some suitable excuse for his distraction, but then decides to hell with it. “Paying attention.”

“Yeah, that was kind of obvious.” Jeonghan snorts, shaking his head. He taps the stack of papers tucked under his arm on his way to the door. “I got you covered though. I’ll send you my notes later.”

“Thanks.” Seungcheol breathes, slipping Jihoon’s phone into his pocket, resisting the urge to glance at the photograph again.

Not that he needs to of course. It’ll be there, on his phone, waiting for him, and if he closes his eyes, he can still recall every detail, projected in clear-cut contrast behind his lids—the milky smooth skin and rosy nipples, the slender little waist and the lovely swell of hips, the perfect pert curve of his ass, barely framed by a thin stretch of silky white fabric. Seungcheol imagines tracing his finger over the material playfully, just there, just above the jut of a hip bone, then doing it again with his mouth.

“You just going to sit there all day?”

Snapping his eyes open, Seungcheol flushes when he sees Jeonghan watching him impatiently from the door.

Sighing, Seungcheol moves to stand up, then has to quickly concede that _yes_ , he might just have to sit here all day. Moving right now is definitely not an option because the hard length between his thighs is pretty damn incriminating.

* * *

“Oh hey, you found it.” Seungcheol says, when he returns from his meeting and spots his missing cell waiting for him on his desk.

“Yeah, it was under one of the towels in the bathroom.” Jihoon replies, doing his darndest to remain casual. He doesn’t even look up from his computer screen, doesn’t even pause in his work; he’s situated himself so that his peripheral vision gives him all the information he needs, not only to avert Seungcheol’s suspicions on the _actual_ recent whereabouts of his phone, but because he just can’t look Seungcheol in the eye right now. Not when a few feet away, there’s a cell phone that is _not_ his own with an incredibly incriminating image of him, longing half-naked on a bed.

Seungcheol _knows_ what he looks like in a thong now, and Jihoon’s just biting his lip, waiting for the inevitable teasing to start.

He contemplated deleting the message, he _should_ have really, but then Seungcheol would know that he saw it, that he knew the code to unlock his phone, that it had been in his possession and he’d been scrolling through it, and the whole surprise party aspect of the surprise party would no longer be a surprise.

As Seungcheol takes his seat, Jihoon begins to fidget, tapping an anxious rhythm with his foot against the desk. When he spots Seungcheol reaching for the phone in the corner of his eye, his fingers clamp over the keyboard, typing out a long strong of nonsensical words into the open email browser. He’s freaking out. He’s quietly freaking out and Seungcheol is just _there_ , reclining in his seat, staring at his phone with a dreamy look his face.

Wait a minute…… _A dreamy look on his face?_

_What the hell? Is he looking at my picture right now?_

Jihoon can't ask the question directly. His curiosity isn't enough to outweigh the mortified self-doubt living inside him. But he needs to know, and Seungcheol’s satisfied little grin is so goddamn reassuring.

“You seem pretty pleased with yourself over there, what are you looking at?” He finally speaks up, trying his hardest not to blush.

Seungcheol bolts upright, snapping out of his pleasant contemplation and back into a business frame of mind.

“Oh, uhm uh—nothing. I guess I’m just happy to have my phone back.”

Jihoon watches him return to his work with a curious niggle forming in the back of his mind.

Even on his most confident day Jihoon has never been able to convince himself that Seungcheol might be interested in him. Jesus, why would he? Some hopelessly naïve kid half his age who stumbled his way through the wrong interview, who only has a career path because Seungcheol thought he was too adorable not to hire?

Surely Choi Seungcheol has better things to do with his life?

But watching Seungcheol take another sneak peek at his phone from while he _pretends_ to work leaves him with a bashful smile on his lips; something giddy and disbelieving and hopeful.

* * *

Seungcheol fumbles for his card key outside the penthouse, holding his dry cleaning by his little finger, clutching a stack of files under his arm. He manages to swipe the card awkwardly, but doesn’t quite have the leverage to reach for the door handle and pull it open before the light flashes red. Thankfully, it swings open not a second later as one of his neighbours exits the building, but his attempts to slip through quietly are interrupted when the man leaving holds an arm out to block the door.

“Oi, Choi.” He snarls, poking Seungcheol in the chest with his finger.

Frowning, Seungcheol jerks his head up and finds the offending digit belongs to none other than his irritating downstairs neighbour, Jung Woo-sung, an older man whose florid dinner party invitations Seungcheol has gone to painstaking lengths to avoid. Especially after that incident with his wife, which till this day, still makes no sense whatsoever. How was Seungcheol supposed to know that smiling at someone in the elevator and complimenting their blouse suggested you were open to the idea of a threesome?

Jesus. What happened to boring married suburbanites?

“Ah, Woo-sung,” Seungcheol coughs twice, clearing his throat as well as the memory, “It’s been a while. How is the—”

“What are you playing at, inviting my wife to your party and not me?” Woo-sung interjects furiously. Seungcheol must be looking blank, because he huffs and adds, “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but when you’re issuing an invitation to your neighbours, the polite thing to do is to address the invite to Mr _and_ Mrs, not Ms Jung plus guest. Frankly, I’m insulted to be considered anyone’s plus one, let alone my own wife. We’ve been neighbours for five years, so the least you can do is remember my damn name when you’re inviting me to your Birthday party. We will not be attending.”

Seungcheol switches his hold on his dry cleaning so he can hold up a hand, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Woo-sung. I’m not having a birthday party, and if I _was_ , you can rest assure you and your wife would be the _last_ people I’d invite.”

Woo-sung narrows his eyes at him, then pulls out his phone, “Oh yeah? Care to explain this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been sitting on my laptop for two months, waiting for me to catch up with reposting ಥ‿ಥ Hope y'all enjoy


	2. Reluctant Birthday Boy

When Jihoon skips into work bright and early on Thursday Morning, Seungcheol’s already in his office, and treats him to a frankly _brilliant_ impersonation of a James Bond Villain—swiveling around in his chair when Jihoon thinks he’s alone and scaring the literal crap out of him. Honestly, the lights are off and the blinds are drawn, and yet, Seungcheol is just _sitting_ there in the dark, brow set in one of those deeply disapproving frowns that normally makes Jihoon panic unreasonably for hours.

All that’s missing is the fluffy white cat.

“Oh, Good Morning Cheol—” Jihoon says, when he finally stops screaming. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early. Is everything okay? Can I get you anything? Have you had breakfast? What am I saying, of course you haven’t, you always skip breakfast. But don’t worry, I have just the thing. I picked up some lovely fresh bagels from the new bakery across the street, they smell amazing. How about I toast you one and spread some cream cheese on top and you can have it with usual morning Latte. It’ll be a nice start to the morning. How does that sound?”

Seungcheol, who had been frowning right up until the mention of fresh bagels, heaves a tired sigh. “You’re making it very hard for me to stay angry with you Peanut.” He says in a vaguely accusatory way.

Blinking at him, Jihoon asks, “W-why would you be angry with me though?”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at him all over again, like he forgot all about the bagels.

At last, after a lengthy and discomfiting silence, he rises from his seat and moves across the office to pull the door shut. There is something sombre in the way he crosses his arms and leans against the door. He looks as though he is still waiting for an explanation, though for once Jihoon has no idea what to say.

It seems like an eternity has passed before Seungcheol finally speaks up, waggling a finger, “You’ve been a very sneaky peanut. Very sneaky. The _sneakiest_.”

Jihoon nervously shifts his weight, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the marble tiles, “Is—is this about the coin I picked up in the lobby? I wasn’t going to keep it. Honest. I was going to put it in a charity box.”

There is a flash of amusement in Seungcheol’s face before he gets his expression firmly under control once again. “ _No_ , I’m talking about the surprise birthday _party_ you’re planning for me.”

“Oh no!” Jihoon gasps, “You’re not meant to know about that. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Seungcheol doesn't say anything. He employs only a slight eyebrow raise that tells Jihoon’s he’s completely missed the point.

“Oh, uhm, right.” Jihoon says, wiping at the side of his nose, knowing from the severe look on the older man’s face that he should tread carefully. “Okay, so I know you explicitly asked me not to plan anything, but the thought of you doing _nothing_ for your big birthday made me really sad. Like really sad. Especially when I thought about how hard you work every day, and how generous you’ve been to me and the CCCC. So I planned you a little party, and not because I _like_ planning parties, but because I wanted to do something _nice_ for you. Because you _deserve_ nice things.”

When he finishes his little speech, Seungcheol face is a strange mixture of annoyance and tenderness, where his stubbornness is clearly intersecting with his desire to eat delicious cake. For a second, Jihoon thinks he might actually be caving into the idea of a little party, but between one blink and the next, his face hardens over, and he shakes his head. 

“I don’t _want_ nice things. I don’t want a fucking party. What I _want_ is for people to do as I _say_. Now, you’re going to contact every single person you invited and you’re going to tell them the party has been _cancelled_. Understood?”

Jihoon’s mouth falls open, “But, but—”

“This is non-negotiable Jihoon.” Seungcheol’s voice is firm as he moves back to the desk to take his seat, “This is an order. Get it done.”

Jihoon bites down on his lip, hard, jamming down every argument he wants to make as he retreats to his desk.

Yeah, he’s a little sad that all the time and effort they’ve put into the party is going down the drain, but in the scheme of things, it’s not the end of the world; the caterer can be cancelled, and the cake and the decorations can all be put to use somehow. No huge loss. Mostly he’s just _hurt_ —angry in fact—that Seungcheol can so _easily_ throw a kind gesture back in his face like that. Like having someone throw you a surprise birthday party because they love you so much is some huge _inconvenience_. Like Jihoon’s being thoughtless for _caring_.

It’s so unfair; Jihoon’s is always trying to be so damned considerate of Seungcheol’s preferences and his needs and his _comfort_. And what does he get in return? Seungcheol acting like a grade-A, no-holds-barred prick.

Well, if Seungcheol says he doesn’t want nice things, that’s fine with him. This is the last time Jihoon’s going to do anything nice for him. Ever.

Right after he prepares Seungcheol his bagel of course, but only because breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and Seungcheol really shouldn’t be skipping meals. ☹ But that’s the last nice thing Jihoon’s going to do for him. Honestly.

No more nice things. Seungcheol doesn’t _deserve_ such thoughtfulness.

And okay, maybe Jihoon will make him his Latte too, because he needs something to wash the bagel down with. But he certainly _won’t_ be dusting a smiley face on the foam with cinnamon sugar this time. Absolutely not.

No smiley foam faces for Seungcheol anymore.

“Yeah, that’ll show him.” Jihoon mutters to himself as he finishes pouring the frothed milk. Though he doubts Seungcheol will even _notice_ the absence of his smiley foam face. He probably doesn’t even care that Jihoon’s been avidly watching Milk froth design tutorials on YouTube, so Seungcheol can have cute little drawings on his Latte every morning.

Except when Jihoon sets the bagel and coffee down on Seungcheol’s desk, Seungcheol glances away from his laptop briefly, then does a double take.

“Hey—where’s my smiley foam face?”

Jihoon pretends to give him a dirty, knowing look, except he’s always been shit at giving people dirty looks. He squints too much, and always ends up smiling anyway and leaving the other person confused, so really, the only thing for it is the direct approach.

“I thought you said you didn’t _want_ nice things anymore.”

“Oh. Right.” Seungcheol mumbles, staring down at his cup. He looks unbearably sad that his smiley foam face is missing when he takes his first sip, and Jihoon caves immediately.

“Aww, no, I’m sorry, don’t be sad. Gimme the cup back and I’ll put a smiley face on it.”

Seungcheol bursts out laughing with his lips still resting around the rim of the cup, sending a layer of foam flying across the papers on his desk, then has to grab at the box of tissues to stop the coffee from dribbling down his chin and on to the front of his shirt.

Jihoon _tries_ to help, but he’s too busy staring. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Seungcheol laugh so hard—his boss is ticking silently with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. He laughs so long that Jihoon starts thinking maybe he should be offended about something, like maybe he has a foam moustache or something? When Seungcheol finally catches his breath, he reaches across and pats Jihoon on the arm, “Oh Peanut, you’re going to be the death of me one of these days.”

Some of the confused hurt must show in Jihoon’s eyes, because Seungcheol’s expression softens measurably, and the hand on his arm curls into a reassuring grip.

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry Peanut, I shouldn’t have been angry with you about the party; you were doing something sweet for me and I just, I don’t know, I guess I hate being reminded how—” He pulls in a hard breath, collects himself, and finishes—with no small amount of desperation, “I hate being _old_.”

Jihoon frowns at him, because they’ve been over this before, and he doesn’t know what else he can do to convince Seungcheol he’s not some kind of prehistoric _dinosaur_ without parading him around the office, asking people to guess his age.

“You’re not old Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol sags into chair like marionette with its strings cut. “I kind of am.” He says miserably, sticking one hand in his hair and sighing. “I found a grey hair while I was styling my hair the other day.”

Jihoon makes a fascinated gasping noise despite his best efforts to suppress it. With all Seungcheol’s talk of growing old, he’s often found himself picturing the guy actually _looking_ older, and a few greying strands at the temples is a pretty fetching look on him. At least, in Jihoon’s imagination.

“Wow, _really_? Where?”

“Uh, on my _head_ ,” Seungcheol huffs, sarcastic, “Where else would it be? It’s not like I was standing in front of the mirror, styling my _pubes_. Jesus Jihoon, I’m not _that_ vain.”

It’s Jihoon turn to laugh now, and he bursts into a fit of unwilling giggles before he can help it, which only serves to make Seungcheol even more huffy and offended. Honestly, he can be such a big sulky baby sometimes, and today is no exception. Jihoon has to physically stop him from wheeling his chair away to sulk by the window, his favourite _glaring_ spot.

“Aww, I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing _at_ you, I was laughing at what you said. And c’mon, a single grey hair isn’t a big deal. Don’t you know some guys get grey hairs in their late twenties? It’s actually pretty amazing this is your first one. Besides, I think you’d look really hot as a silver fox.”

The smile Seungcheol gives him is dry and a little disbelieving. “Again, you’re making it very hard for me to be angry with you.”

The tenderly annoyed expression is back again, but it’s definitely leaning towards tender. Jihoon bounces a little on the balls of his feet, hoping his earnest excitement can be persuasive without employing the soulful kitten eyes.

“Does that mean you might reconsider the party? I mean, I don’t have a problem with telling the guests it’s been called off, but I’m a little more worried of breaking the news to Janna and Celia. They’ve really gone all out.”

Seungcheol sprawls back in his chair with a snort, “I should have known those two would have a hand in this.”

Jihoon shifts restlessly from foot to foot, feeling a little guilty that he’s scapegoating Janna and Celia when really it was his idea in the first place. “I was the one who initially proposed the idea of a party, actually, and I picked the Great Gatsby theme, because I wanted you to celebrate your big day in style. But I guess you could say Janna and Cel were responsible for getting the ball rolling, and now it’s like, really _big_ ball, and I can’t stop the ball from rolling, and it’s heading straight for a village of innocent pe—"

Seungcheol makes a small shushing motion with his lips, planting his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders gently. “It’s okay Peanut, calm down. Just tell me, who all did you invite?”

“Pretty much everyone.” Jihoon whispers tentatively.

Seungcheol’s expression turns weary. “ _Everyone_?”

* * *

“Song Joong-ki?”

“Eugh, that guy’s a total ass. I can’t stand him.”

“Kim Namjoon?”

“My main competitor? Seriously?”

“He was really nice on the phone. Really charming. And he seemed really flattered to have received an invite.”

“Maybe that’s because we don’t _like_ each other, and I wouldn’t normally invite him to anything.”

“Park Seo-joon?”

“He’s a colossal jerk. He tried to sue me. Twice.”

“Kim Min-young?”

“Aw, no, not her.” Seungcheol groans, cradling his head in his hands. “She’s a notorious gold digger. She’s been trying to sink her claws in even _before_ I got divorced.”

By now Jihoon's face has turned an uncomfortable shade of red. He scans down the list in his hands, mouth twisting thoughtfully, “Unfortunately, neither of your parents can make it.”

“Oh, thank heavens. A silver lining.” Seungcheol quips, without any real humour.

“But your brother can. He’ll be flying in from Madrid.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to get my locks changed. He raided my vintage whiskey collection the last time he was in town.”

“What about Song Hye-kyo? You must like _her_ , she had a lot of nice things about you.”

“Janna’s divorce attorney? Well of course she likes me, I made her a fortune.”

Jihoon breathes a noncommittal sound, folding the list in his hands tucking it into his pocket “I don’t get it Seungcheol. Why is your contact list filled with people you don’t like, have tried to sue you or are complete jerks?”

The first edges of a wry grin twitch at one corner of Seungcheol’s mouth. “Welcome to the business world Peanut. Haven’t you ever heard of the saying, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?”

Jihoon blinks at him guilelessly, in that innocent little Peanuty way of his that says, _‘Why have enemies, when you can have friends!’_

Stupid Seungcheol. Of course, Jihoon doesn’t live by that saying. He’s probably never even heard of that saying; this is Mr Lee Mc Meow Meow Peanut Jihoon after all—he wants to make friends with _everyone_.

“Look, I don’t expect a little friendly Peanut like you to understand, but in the corporate world, this is how we roll. You keep in contact with people you don’t like, because when it comes down to the nitty gritty of business, it’s not only about how much money and power you have, it’s also about who you _know_. These people, most of them are businessmen like me, and sometimes they can be useful in removing bureaucratic red tape and opening doors that would otherwise be closed. But that doesn’t make us friends. They're not the kind of people I would ring up for drinks at the bar.” Seungcheol pauses. “Hell, I probably wouldn’t piss on half of them if they were on fire.”

Jihoon’s face tightens. “Maybe it’s best I call off the party after all. I know Janna and Celia will be disappointed, but they’ll understand. And I’m sure we could still make use of the decorations and the goodie bags and the giant cake with your face on it for some kind of _corporate_ function in the future.”

Seungcheol has to laugh, just a little disbelieving snicker, thinking of Jihoon, coming up with a nice objective party checklist and working through it, putting in too much effort, even when Seungcheol told him _not_ to. Then he has to _sigh_ , because his little Peanut’s pouting sadly now, and _God_!

That pout. _That pout_. That damnable, terrible, beautiful little pout. That plump shelf of lower lip, protruding ever so slightly: how can it make Seungcheol frantic? It’s inconceivable, the power of it. Seungcheol would do any number of questionable things to ease that pout, even a _little_. 

"Hey, listen," says Seungcheol now, reaching over to tip Jihoon’s chin up with two fingertips. “Don’t worry about it, okay. You don’t have to cancel anything—I’ll go to the party. You’ve obviously put a lot of effort into planning this whole this, and besides, a last-minute cancellation will ruffle too many feathers. I’ll just use this party as a networking opportunity—a chance to solidify some business connections.”

Knotting his hands together, Jihoon resists meeting Seungcheol eyes, “But that doesn’t seem fair on you. You’re supposed to be having fun on your birthday, not _networking_.”

Seungcheol shrugs and smiles, “I suppose you’ll just have to stay by my side the entire night, make sure I’m having fun.”

The little jaw muscles in front of Jihoon’s ears flickering with uncertainty, just for an instant, before his lower lip is pulling back in, and his precious pout is quickly replaced by a cheeruby smile, “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

“Then I guess I have nothing to worry about.” Seungcheol concedes with a mixture of fondness and resignation.

A shy, pleased look creeps over Jihoon’s face. He takes a seat on the armrest of Seungcheol chair, so light and lithe Seungcheol’s almost sure if he stood up, the chair wouldn’t topple over. He considers doing it anyway just to test that theory out, but now Jihoon’s threading gentle fingers through his hair and Seungcheol sure would hate for that to stop anytime soon.

“It really do think you’ll have fun,” Jihoon whispers, scratching the V of hair at the nape of his neck, moving his fingers against the grain, “I mean, I don’t want to share to much and spoil it for you, but Janna’s really gone all out with the preparations. No expense has been spared.”

Seungcheol can’t help but grimace at that, though the expression doesn’t linger; perhaps shoved aside by the still-gentle touch of Jihoon's fingers through his hair.

“Not gonna lie, that’s….a little worrying.”

“Oh no, no, don’t worry.” Jihoon giggles, tickling the ridge of his ear. “Janna’s covering the cost for the entire thing, she insisted. She’s using her funds in the Bank of Janna to pay for everything.”

Seungcheol debates the merits of pointing out that ‘Bank of Janna’ is a non-existent entity and just Janna’s sneaky way of saying _Seungcheol’s going to pay for this whether he likes it or not._ But Jihoon’s got the happiest little smile on his face right now, so he opts for some nice, reassuring sarcasm instead.

“How unbelievably kind and selfless of her.”

Besides, he’s actually a little curious to see the end result of Jihoon’s collaborative efforts with Janna. Those two don’t exactly share the same sense of style, but they’re both equally as creative and determined when it comes to planning a party and maintaining a _theme_ , so there’s no telling what to expect.

If they both end up having their way, Seungcheol imagines the party will be a cross between a fashion show and a petting zoo, and seriously, who wouldn’t want to see that?

* * *

It’s a bit cloudy on Saturday morning, but the weather reports have assured Jihoon that it will be sunny and roaring hot come lunch time. He peers up at the sky and thinks a silent prayer that the weather will hold until he buys everything he has to, because there’s nothing worse than lugging around bags of shopping in the pouring rain.

Though to be fair, he only has a single shopping bag at the moment. And a small one at that. His _‘Buy Seungcheol the best Birthday present ever’_ shopping expedition hasn’t exactly been a fruitful one.

With one week left till the party, Jihoon is officially in panic mode. He already overthinks every present he buys as it is, trying to figure out if Seokmin would prefer a cooking appliance as a gift or maybe something completely removed from his job, wondering if his mom really liked the scarf he bought her from Paris or if she was just being nice.

It doesn’t help matters that Seungcheol is a freakin _billionaire_ , who can buy himself anything he wanted anytime, so there’s no way Jihoon can ever hope to dazzle someone with Seungcheol’s patrician tastes with some ordinary nothing from the mall. He’ll have to find something Bespoke. Something _incredible, amazing, show-stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique completely not ever been done before_ , gift.

Which is why he finds himself window shopping in the tree-lined boulevards at Garosugil, looking for inspiration.

Sadly, two hours of wandering later, his feet are sore and still nothing has dazzled him. Nothing in _his_ budget anyway. Then as he’s making his way back towards the subway station, the thick, dark clouds that have been threatening him all morning finally catch up, and he has to seek shelter under a shop awning while he fishes out his umbrella.

He’s in the middle of unwrapping his umbrella when a glimmer of light in the display window catches his eye, and when he inevitably turns to inspect it, he inhales sharply with excitement.

“Ooh— _wow_.”

* * *

Seungcheol’s never been one to follow trends or adhere to a theme, nor has he been one for attending birthday parties against his will either. But a 1920’s inspired ensemble is not a complicated look to pull off, and he’d read the Great Gatsby in high school and one again in college, and a man who throws ridiculously ostentatious parties to capture someone’s attention, but doesn’t _actually_ want to be there and doesn’t _actually_ end up with the love of his life is a theme he finds pretty fucking relatable.

So on the night of the party he puts in a little more effort than he usually would with his outfit; a custom made, splendidly cut black tuxedo, and even uses the old stylist’s failsafe _pomade_ to style his hair to the side instead of slicking it completely back with gel.

The end result isn’t very different to how he would usually dress for a black tie event, but short of donning suspenders and a boater and swinging around a fucking cane, which he absolutely refuses to do, he thinks there are enough era specific elements to satisfy Janna’s manic compulsion to follow themes. 

He’s not particularly fussed with how he looks anyway, he’s far more interested to see what _Jihoon_ will be wearing, because for the entirety of the last week, Jihoon’s been slumped in front of his computer, scrolling through inspirational blog posts, sighing wistfully and whining about how comparatively dull the men’s fashion is to the glitz and glamour of the 1920’s flapper.

 _“I mean, I’m not saying I want to wear a feathery diamond studded bikini or anything, but it would be nice if I could get an outfit with a little more glitter.”_ He’d said.

Which prompted Seungcheol to look up from his work and say, _“You could totally wear a feathery diamond studded bikini if you want. Nobody’s stopping you.”_

At which point Jihoon had become adorably flustered and mumbled something about finding a way to zhuzh up an outfit he already has, so Seungcheol doesn’t know _what_ to expect. There will be glitter, for sure, and most likely an overabundance of feathers, and when at 7pm, he arrives to pick up Jihoon, an image has formed in his mind of Jihoon answering the door in a feathery diamond _sweater vest_.

Which is probably _why_ he jerks back in surprise when Jihoon finally appears at the door in something completely different. He’s eschewed the customary tux in favour of dark, slim fitting pair of dress pants and a shimmering pale peach blouse, swapped out the bow tie for a feathery diamond headband and the jacket for a faux fur boa.

Seungcheol takes in the entire ensemble in one slow appreciative sweep and quirks an eyebrow.

“Woah.”

Shyly, Jihoon steps forward, hands clasped together. “How do I look? Does it fit the theme?”

Seungcheol smirks. He feels he has license now to eye Jihoon up a bit, so he does. And he enjoys it too, taking in the lean legs, the trim waist, and the pale and lovely collarbones. Then he makes a tutting noise, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“That blouse is very—" He begins, reaching out to finger the hem of Jihoon’s blouse, a mix of satin and some sheer fabric Seungcheol can't even begin to name. Jihoon doesn't even resist, doesn't pull away. He lets Seungcheol have his moment of quiet, inappropriate fascination, blouse sliding under the twist of his fingers, in a way which probably isn't good for the material at all, seeing as there’s _barely_ any material in the first place.

“I know. It’s not something I would usually wear, “ Jihoon trails off for a moment, flushing that endearing shade of pink, “But I didn’t think a sweater vest would fit the theme and I kind of wanted to try something new. So I let Janna pick this out for me, but the lighting in the shop must have been different, because now I can’t help but feel it’s a little too—”

“Sexy?” Seungcheol hears himself say, too late to bite his tongue.

“I—I was going to say transparent.” Jihoon ducks his head, smiling, little motes of colour climbing up in his cheeks. It strikes Seungcheol suddenly how young Jihoon is; he’s 23, but he’s a young 23. He probably grew up coddled and sheltered and relatively inexperienced, a heartstopper without realizing it.

“I could always throw a jacket over it,” Jihoon continues anxiously, obviously misinterpreting Seungcheol’s silence for disapproval, “If you don’t think it’s—”

“No, no don’t, it’s fine,” Seungcheol interjects, putting a hand on Jihoon's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He tries to remember when comforting gestures had become part of his natural repertoire. He supposes that’s Jihoon's influence. “You look lovely, I just—” _Won’t be able to take my eyes off you all night. Not that I was planning to._ “—Am amazed with how creative your outfit is. Everything is so well thought out, you look—you look incredible.”

Jihoon’s tentative smile flares into full brilliance. “You look very dashing yourself,” He says, looking him over, reaching out to tweak his collar points into symmetry, “I love this tux, and I _love_ how you styled your hair. Very Jay Gatsby.”

Seungcheol feels the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Well, you obviously put a lot of effort into this party, the least I could do was keep in theme.”

Jihoon smiles warmly back, smoothing his hands over the shoulders of Seungcheol's tux.

It’s a scene that has been repeated between them countless times, but for some reason, it _feels_ different tonight. They are very close in this moment, closer than they have ever been before in all the times that Jihoon has sweetly fussed over him, and maybe it’s just because they’re alone in a dimly lit hallway with no pretense of work, or maybe it’s because he _finally_ knows what Jihoon looks like in a thong now. But Seungcheol doesn’t think he’s imagining the warmth filling the narrow space between them, more pleasant than it has any right to be. 

“We should probably get going.” He blurts out, when he realises he’s been flat out staring at Jihoon’s lips the entire time, unspeaking, as if caught in a trance.

The way Jihoon startles and nods jerkily back suggests he’d been doing much the same, but Seungcheol refuses to dwell on it right now. Tonight’s not the time to try to figure out what’s going on between them. Seungcheol’s got his hypothesis, but there are too many variables, and he has no desire to have _this_ —whatever’s going on between them—blow up in his face.

He’s too old and too damn smart to take risks.

* * *

“Jesus,” Seungcheol says, hesitating at the edge of the massive foyer.

Hiring out the entire top floor of the Grand Hyatt had seemed like an ambitious gesture when Jihoon first told him about it, but it seems to have been a wise choice in the end because apparently every person he's ever known and their significant others have turned out at the expectation of free food and drink.

There are literally hundreds upon hundreds of guests; all stunningly dressed, all mingling and greeting each other, all laughing loudly and raucously. They genuinely seem to be enjoying themselves and why wouldn’t they be? The party is in full swing and clearly no expense has been spared. Around every art-deco designed corner is a homage to the roaring 20’s, with everything from burlesque dancers with giant ostrich feather boas, to champagne pouring aerial acrobats, dangling precariously from feathered crystal chandeliers.

There’s a cigar rolling station in one corner, a fully decked out Roulette table in the other, as well as a Speakeasy style bar, serving prohibition inspired cocktails. There’s even a fucking live Jazz band, where a trumpeter is tearing up a toe-tapping rag at breakneck speed.

It promises to be a hell of a party.

Or possibly just hell, Seungcheol quickly amends as he catches sight of Janna and Celia, colluding by a tower of champagne glasses.

Anything that involves those two women in the same room is a disaster in the making. They should come with warning labels: volatile when combined; destruction of public property is likely to occur; please make sure all emergency exits are clearly marked. But it’s too late to grab Jihoon and make a run for it, Janna and Celia are already on route, fringed dresses swinging as they glide through the crowd to the greet him.

Seungcheol can feel the muscles in his face protesting at the amount of smiling going on. It is decidedly un-Seungcheol like. But he’s learned from experience that when it comes to these two women, it’s vital he shows no fear.

“Happy Birthday Ex-husband dearest, you’re looking very handsome tonight,” Janna says, leaning in to peck him on the cheek, “And take that fake smile off your face, we’re not going to torment you. Not on your birthday.”

At the same moment, Celia goes scarily glinty-eyed. “Speak for yourself Janna, I came with the express intention of tormenting him. Though I am impressed with the effort you’ve put into your outfit. You even stuck to our theme.”

“It’s just a tux, I happen to own a few of those.” Seungcheol says, fiddling with his bowtie.

Celia gives him an appraising look. “Yes, but you’ve _always_ hated our parties Cheollie. I was sure you’d show up in a bathrobe and slippers or something, just to ruin the mood. Jihoonie must have given you a big dose of those soulful kitten eyes to have you on your best behaviour.”

“It’s true, he did.” Seungcheol admits, while Jihoon begins to meow something in protest. “He’s a master emotional blackmailer.”

Frowning at all of them, Jihoon meows an entire indecipherable sentence then crosses his arm. Then meows again when Seungcheol reels him in to press a kiss to his temple. “You’re right Peanut, I’m being terribly ungrateful. Thank you for throwing me a Birthday Party.”

When he pulls back, Jihoon is blushing and Janna and Celia are watching them with honest to god _tears_ in their eyes, like they’re five seconds away for awing and saying what a cute couple they make or something. Jihoon cuts in before they can, taking hold of Seungcheol’s hand and leading him away.

“Come on. We’ll get you a champagne snow cone then you can greet your guests.”

“A what?”

* * *

Between a relentless blur of introductions and handshakes, Jihoon remains steadfastly at Seungcheol’s side, bringing him snacks and refreshing his drink and occasionally dragging him away to sample the delights of his own Birthday Party.

If he had of known inviting so many people would entail Seungcheol having to stop and chat with each _one_ of them, he would have been more selective with the guest list. As it is, the party has turned out to be the networking event of the season, and everyone’s trying to worm their way into Seungcheol’s good graces. 

Even people Jihoon doesn’t remember _inviting_.

Seungcheol seems pretty gracious about it though, and Jihoon’s always respected Seungcheol's abilities as a businessman, but he's forgotten how genuinely _charming_ the guy can be when he wants. He's set aside the aura of sombre businessman and is instead smiling and shaking hands, charming the socks off everyone he stops to speak to.

Even if it's just a front for the guests, Jihoon can't help admiring this warmer, easier side. The effort Seungcheol is making to be more personable.

"If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say you weren’t faking that laugh," Jihoon says admiringly as they move away from the small cloister of guests they'd been talking to. The guests that had been hanging on Seungcheol’s every word, all clamouring over each other as they compete to see who can remember the most Seungcheol related anecdotes.

Seungcheol's eyes are bright and enthusiastic as they step over to a corner to talk. "I guess I’m in a good mood. Tonight’s turned out pretty well, considering the guest list.”

Jihoon blinks and feels a faint hint of smile tug at one corner of his mouth. “Does…does that mean you’re having fun?”

Seungcheol chuckles softly. It’s a good sound, like water tumbling over rocks in a deep mountain stream.

“Yeah, actually, I am.”

“Aw, yay.” Jihoon says, feeling unbearably pleased.

If he’s smiling like an idiot, which he’s fairly sure he is, then Seungcheol doesn’t make any comment. He merely smiles wryly to himself and guides Jihoon over to inspect one of the refreshment tables.

It’s a beautiful spread decorated with three ice sculptures, with lots of fancy finger food, platters of lobster tail flown in from the North Atlantic and Beluga caviar fresh from Russia. And because Jihoon had made some noise about how Seungcheol didn’t actually enjoy eating most of those foods, there’s also the rich man’s version of pizza rolls, mac n’ cheese bites and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Jihoon watches Seungcheol admire the spread for a long moment, something in him buzzing excitedly, and almost proudly. But Seungcheol hardly gets to try anything before a woman with bright blonde hair and a frosted pink smile comes ploughing through the crowd, a cloud of overly-floral perfume billowing around her, making Jihoon’s nose wrinkle.

"Happy Birthday Choi." She purrs, attaching herself to Seungcheol's arm like a magnet. “What a lovely party. And aren't you looking handsome in your tuxedo.”

There's a moment of obvious panic—Seungcheol’s hand tightens around his plate and his shoulders hunch reflexively – before he glances down at the woman and flashes a big, white smile. It's the overly toothy grin that he uses when he’s uncomfortable but trying to remain polite, not the easy, natural smile that he saves for their office, definitely not the fond, _‘how are you even real’_ smile that belongs only to Jihoon.

“Hello Min-young, glad you could make it. You’re looking very….” He coughs awkwardly, “That’s a nice dress.”

"Oh, this old thing?” Min-young angles closer, pressing her boobs against Seungcheol’s chest. "I’m told I look much nicer _out_ of it.”

Jihoon stifles a small giggle as Seungcheol roll his eyes and begins prying her fingers off of him. But Min-young, who is clearly stronger than she looks, just digs her nails in deeper, leaning up to whisper into Seungcheol’s ear, “How about I keep you company big boy. Wouldn’t want you to be lonely on your birthday.”

Seungcheol snorts, not quite a laugh but close, and shakes his head. “I’m not lonely. There’s more than a hundred people in here.”

The corners of Min-young’s mouth turn down in exaggerated disappointment. “That’s different. I meant more _intimate_ company.” 

“That’s very kind of you but as you can see, I already _have_ company.” Seungcheol intones, finally freeing himself to gesture at Jihoon. “This is Lee Jihoon, my boyfriend.”

A little flutter of…something passes through Jihoon hearing Seungcheol refer to him as his boyfriend, but he doesn’t have time to stop and enjoy it before Min-young is spinning to look at him, an exasperated look on her face.

“Lee Jihoon, huh?” She says, extending one finely-manicured hand for a shake, “Aren’t you the one who sent me the invite? I thought you were supposed to be his PA or something.”

Jihoon shifts uneasily, “Oh, yes, I am,” He says, feeling a traitorous flush rise into his face as he meets Seungcheol’s eyes over the woman’s shoulder. “But I’m also his ..his boyfriend. Uhm— _hello_.”

Min-young’s eyes go wide, and she opens her mouth and closes it again, before finally addressing Seungcheol in a hushed tone, “Did he just _meow_ at me?”

Seungcheol cracks a smile, and says, “Yeah, he does that sometimes. Sorry, will you excuse us.” Then resting his hand on the small of Jihoon’s back, guides him away to a quiet corner near the entrance. The moment they’re alone again, the tension bleeds out of his shoulders instantly; when he turns back towards Jihoon, he looks embarrassed, “Sorry about that, I just couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of her.”

He’s laughing a little, clearly sheepish, but his palm is still a possessive weight on Jihoon’s hip, the warmth of it tingling at the base of Jihoon's spine, pleasant and maddening.

“Oh, that’s okay.” Jihoon says as blithely as he can manage. He grabs them two drinks off a circulating tray for appearance's sake, looking at Seungcheol from the corner of his eye while doing so. “I don’t mind pretending to be your date if it stops unwanted advances. Though I suppose I don’t make a very desirable choice of partner. Someone more stylish and sophisticated would look a lot more convincing on your arm than me.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow at him and does this _thing_ , where it’s like someone offstage flips some switch and he becomes a totally different person. He dips his head, maybe an inch, leans in some infinitesimally small distance, and says, in a low throaty voice that would sound right at home in a sex film, "You're plenty desirable Jihoon, believe me."

Jihoon has just enough time to feel his pulse skyrocket and his body freeze with shock before Seungcheol powers down the Hot-Boss-Generator and continues with a casual, "But it’s probably best I don’t go around advertising to everyone that I’m dating my PA.”

Jihoon’s heart sinks, very slowly, like a flat rock on the surface of a muddy swamp.

“Oh, right.” He grins and prays the expression is convincing. “It wouldn’t be very professional to date your PA I guess.”

Seungcheol makes steady eye contact for the space of a few seconds and then abruptly shakes his head, “I…I don’t care about _that_. Who I date is really nobody else’s business but my own, even if it wasn’t the most professional choice. What I’m _more_ concerned about is someone trying to kidnap you.”

“Oh my god, no this again,” Jihoon sighs, tipping his head back wearily, “For the last time Seungcheol, I’m _not_ going to get kidnapped.”

Seungcheol gives him a shrewd look. “You don’t _know_ that Jihoon. I have a lot of enemies in the corporate world, and if they knew how important you were to me, they’d kidnap you like _that_.”

“I would fight them.” Jihoon pouts.

Seungcheol's eyes sparkle with carefully held-back amusement. “ _Would_ you though, _would_ you? Or would you befriend them and become their PA’s and make them smiley foamy face latte’s?”

It doesn’t matter that Seungcheol’s clearly just teasing him, Jihoon can’t help but bristle in indignation, “How dare you question my loyalty. You’re the only person I make smiley foamy face latte’s for. I wouldn’t want to work for anyone else.”

Seungcheol’s gaze flickers away at last, but not before a tiny smile flares on his lips, “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that Peanut. Nevertheless, I’m still thinking of getting you fitted with some kind of GPS tracker. It would give me some peace of mind.”

Jihoon tries not to giggle at that, but he can’t help it – he raises his glass in surrender when he feels his lips twitch at the corners and sees Seungcheol’s grin of triumph. It’s _fun_ with Seungcheol, it always is. It’s fun, it’s good, it’s— _It’s kind of like flirting,_ Jihoon admits, and takes a sip of his own drink to try to wash away the little voice in his head that’s asking _Kind of? This is flirting you idiot._

There’s a sudden commotion at the door – heads turn, the hovering hum of conversation swells, and when Jihoon cranes his neck to find the source, he spots a man in wincing white tuxedo sauntering through the crowds, a stunning woman on each arm.

 _I don’t remember hiring a magician,_ Jihoon thinks, because the guy is certainly giving off ‘Party Magician’ vibes, what with the top-hat and the cape and the two beautiful assistants, but then Seungcheol snorts and says, “I knew that jackass was going to upstage me,” and he’s shocked to realise it’s just another guest, making a grand entrance apparently.

He reaches for Seungcheol’s hand, almost second nature by now, to ask who the man is, but gets cut off when the man holds out both hands towards them and shouts across the room, “There he is—there’s the Birthday boy!”

Remarkably, Seungcheol’s cool façade cracks a little, and he offers a reluctant smile, and when the man swoops in to greet him, he only has a second to hand Jihoon his glass before the man crushes him in a powerful hug.

Jihoon falters back a step and wonders who this is and what had happened to his boss, because he has never, _ever_ , seen Seungcheol hug anyone. Except for, well, maybe himself. But this man is getting a right big hug and Seungcheol doesn’t even seem uncomfortable about it. In fact, the gesture is so easy between them, casual fondness and a buoyant energy as they greet each other warmly. There are hard slaps on the back, hands gripping wide shoulders. Low, private laughter. A comfort Seungcheol rarely exhibits with people, whether in public or in private.

It’s a little fascinating to watch if Jihoon’s being honest, and he stands back quietly, waiting to find out who this guy is—which of Seungcheol’s guests is allowed to hug him and ruffle his hair and smooch him on the cheek, and _not_ get murdered for it. 

“Who knew you could throw a party like this eh?” The man is saying, patting Seungcheol on the cheek fondly, “Didn’t think you had it in ya to celebrate anything, but here we are. Though I suppose we have your lovely PA to thank for that. Where is he? Where’s the little angel you’re head over heel—”

Seungcheol elbows the man before he can finish, catching Jihoon by the elbow and quickly drawing him forward into the conversation, “Here he is, right here. Seungmin, Jihoon—Jihoon, say hello to my brother, Seungmin.”

“Oh,” Jihoon says, blinking three times to re-orient himself before breaking into a wide smile. “Oh, of course.”

A moment ago, he’d been scratching his head, trying to figure out who this guy was, but now that the surprise has faded, the family resemblance really is unmistakable. They have the same solid frame, the same broad shoulders, the same overabundance of muscles. Seungmin has a little extra height, which is seriously not fair, and more round weight softening his edges. But he has large capable hands, just like Seungcheol's, and he stands with the same intimidating posture.

They also wear the same _‘What the fuck are you looking at?_ ’ default expression, that breaks into something bright and charming when they smile—a fact Jihoon learns the instant he holds his hand out in greeting. The grin that breaks across Seungmin’s face is potent, crinkling the corners of his eyes and putting a dimple in one cheek.

“Look at you.” He drawls, capturing Jihoon’s hand instead of shaking it, pressing an ostentatious kiss against his knuckles. “You were right Cheollie, he is the loveliest little thing in existence.”

Jihoon ducks his head, his stomach twisting with shyness. Then his eyes widen as the hand around his tightens and Seungmin pulls him closer with a leer, begins peppering a trail of _kisses_ up his arm and—

WHACK!

“Ow,” Seungmin stumbles to the side, rubbing at the back of his head.

“Do not _fuck_ with me today Seungmin. I am not above whooping your ass in front of all these people.” Seungcheol grits out, hauling his brother away from Jihoon by the scruff of his neck.

“Alright, alright—message received. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Seungmin counters, straightening himself out, still grinning. Then, smooth as anything, he turns his attention away from Seungcheol, winks playfully at Jihoon, “You wouldn’t know I was two years older the way he puts me in my place, eh?”

“Wha— _really_?” Jihoon tilts his head curiously, “I always thought _you_ were the oldest Seungcheol.”

Seungmin’s smile widens, quirking up at the corners. “Are you saying Seungcheol _looks_ older? Why, thank you Jihoon, how kind of you to point that out. I’ve always thought I carried my age better.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that at all!” Jihoon gasps, flailing a hand.

Thankfully, Seungcheol doesn’t seem to have taken his observation the wrong way; his bland expression doesn't so much as flicker, but there's subtle amusement in his tone when he says, “I think what Jihoon means to say is that I’m the more _mature_ one. Unlike you, I _act_ my age.”

“Yes, yes, Cheollie’s the more responsible one. We all know that.” Seungmin snorts, draping an arm over Seungcheol’s shoulder, “That’s why he got picked to head the family business, and I got to kick back and enjoy my life.”

“A little _too_ much obviously.” Seungcheol drawls, nodding towards the champagne tower where Seungmin’s companions are making the most of the free-flowing booze. “Did you really need to bring two dates? Who brings two dates?”

“Oh, _them_? They’re not with me,” Seungmin laughs, shaking his head. “I just bumped into them downstairs in the lobby, and before I knew it, they were following me up here. I actually came empty handed tonight, believe it or not. But don’t worry, I already have my eye on that tall, gorgeous blonde over there. Maybe you’ll introduce me?”

Squinting across the room at whoever Seungmin’s signaled out, Seungcheol’s mouth pulls down into a disapproving frown. 

“I’d prefer it if I didn’t. That’s Jeonghan, my Vice CEO.”

“Jeonghan eh?” Seungmin's smile turns wry as he begins moving away. “Think I’ll go introduce myself.”

“Is—is he _really_ going to try and hit on Jeonghan?” Jihoon gasps quietly, although he isn't sure why he is surprised; from the way Seungcheol talks about his brother’s exploits, Seungmin is practically a walking advertisement for socialite rakishness. Perhaps he’s more surprised that Seungcheol’s just going to stand by and let it happen, and says as much.

Seungcheol takes a long slow sip of his champagne and lowers his voice. “Don’t worry about it Peanut, Jeonghan can handle himself. Besides, sometimes my brother needs to be taken down a peg or two. Who better than Jeonghan to do it.”

 _Fair point_ —Jihoon thinks, and sure enough, a few moments later, Seungmin slinks back towards them looking a little disheartened.

“Could’ve given me a heads up Cheollie, that guy was _brutal_. I’ve never felt more emasculated in my entire life.”

“Serves you right.” Seungcheol snorts. “Maybe learn to keep it in your pants for a change. Not everyone wants to jump into bed with you, you know.”

Seungmin's expression doesn’t change in any measurable way, and yet there's something like smug amusement in his eyes as he says, “Is that a grey hair I see?”

And just like that, Seungcheol's face dissolves into a dark scowl. “Oh, you just had to play dirty, didn’t you?”

Jihoon does his best to mediate the argument that follows—which mostly consists of back and forth fraternal bickering, a lot of petty one-upmanship, and on one occasion, an honest-to-god slap fight that nobody leaves with their head held high. Eventually though, he has to concede defeat when the two brothers engage each other in _glaring_ contest and steps away to fetch a few snacks; the two Choi men/children clearly have a lot to catch up on, and he’d rather not get caught in the crossfire.

He’s at the refreshment table, plate in hand, debating on whether to try the black goo (caviar) or the greyish lump (some kind of pate, apparently), when a waiter in a dark grey uniform, holds a silver tray out towards him. "Champagne?"

Jihoon turns to politely decline, but when he does, he finds himself face to face with Sehun, and he can feel his entire body freeze, as if he’s been hit by an electric shock.

The silver lining is—if there ever was a silver lining in truly awful moments such as this—he sees an expression of equal, if not greater shock Sehun’s face as they stare back at each other. The moment doesn't last long though, and between one blink and the next, Sehun’s surprise smoothes into a careful, guarded look.

“Hello Jihoon. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’ve you been?”

 _Fine until you showed up! What the hell are you doing here?_ Jihoon imagines himself saying as he throws a glass of sparkly apple juice in Sehun’s face, but regrettably he has more self-control than that.

“I’m very well, thank you. And yourself?” He says instead, pseudo-calmly.

He attempts a smile too, but his mouth will not bend the way he wants. Maybe because, deep down, he really doesn’t _feel_ like smiling right now. This, here, is the absolute last place he expected to bump into his shitty ex-boyfriend, and from the tight and brief and utterly insincere smile Sehun levels back at him, the feeling appears to be mutual. 

“Yeah, never better,” Sehun says, his stance casual, his expression not nearly so as he looks Jihoon over. “So, uhm, you’re looking really great. I take it by your outfit you’re here by invitation? Or did you arrive with one of the guests?”

“Oh, well, I don’t actually have an invitation.” Jihoon says, carefully setting down his plate. It’s an effort to keep his hands from shaking when his stomach is twisting in knots, when he’s never felt so clammy and awful in his life. “It’s my boss’s birthday party you see, and I helped plan it, so I guess you could say I’m technically here on _hosting_ duties.”

Sehun’s eyebrows rise, amusement and curiosity. “Wow, so you work for Choi Corp now? That’s certainly a big step up from Starbucks. How’d you manage that?”

A tiny muscle in Jihoon’s jaw flexes a little, but his answer is almost immediate, “I applied for a job and went for an interview, just like anyone else.”

Sehun's mouth pulls into a thin line that is maybe supposed to be a smile, but doesn't quite achieve it. “Well I’m half-way through my internship at the moment, with a pretty prestigious graphic design company. But you know me, I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, so I’m keeping my options open and taking a few freelance jobs on the side too.” He looks down at his shoes, “This waitressing gig isn’t a full-time job or anything, I’m just helping cover for a friend, and it’s actually proving to be a great networking opportunity, you know. Especially at parties like this one, where you can get your foot in the door if you meet the right people.”

“Oh, well that’s great. Good luck with that.” Jihoon murmurs, turning away from the table, attempting to bring a polite end to the conversation only to have his arm caught in a firm grip, halting him.

“So what do you do in Choi Corp _exactly_?” Sehun asks, leaning in close with a frog-eyed look of scrutiny. “Can’t imagine a media studies degree would have gotten you far.”

Jihoon’s so taken aback by the bitter tone, the tightening hold on his arm, that it takes him a moment to register the question.

“I’m—I’m a Personal Assistant.” He says, faltering, an unexplained obstacle in his throat.

Dropping his hand, Sehun clucks his tongue. “Huh, so _not_ that different from Starbucks after all.”

Jihoon has never bit the inside of his cheek so hard. He’s tasting blood, but most importantly, he’s not making any of the rude, cutting remarks that keep surfacing in his brain. He swallows hard and manages, “I—I don’t just fetch coffee for people. I have a lot of really important, really interesting jobs.”

“Sure,” Sehun laughs lightly, as if Jihoon's defensiveness is quaint in some way. “Like getting everyone’s lunch order right.”

“I’m an integral part of the team. My boss told me so.” Jihoon says quietly, and glances towards Seungcheol, who’s looking slightly pissed off at the inferiority of whatever drink he’s knocking back. He catches his eye and Seungcheol gives him that fond smile that is just for him. Jihoon beams back, doubts evaporating like steam, amazed that in a room full of beautiful, wealthy, successful people, Seungcheol can still make him feel as if he’s the only one here that matters.

“Right, of course.” Sehun nods. His tone isn't exactly insincere, but it’s laced with a wry humour that had something in common with sarcasm. “Wait, if this is your boss’s birthday party, does that mean your boss is Choi Seungcheol?”

Tearing his gaze away from Seungcheol, Jihoon nods, feeling some of the shivering energy running through him settle.

“Yeah. I’m his PA.”

Sehun’s raises an eyebrow. It’s a tiny gesture, but nonetheless, it’s a crack in the perfect façade of indifference he’s been wearing up until now. “Oh really? That’s cool. Do you know if they’re hiring at the moment? I know engineering isn’t really my background, but they must need graphic designers to promote and market their business, right? You can put in a good word for me with your boss.”

Jihoon looks at him for a very long, silent moment, trying to decide if Sehun is being serious – and if so, how he could have the balls to ask any sort of favour after what he did. He finally speaks up when he realizes that Sehun is honestly expecting him to answer.

“I—I won’t do that.”

* * *

Some days it seems like nothing can penetrate Jihoon’s happy-go-lucky nature, his carefree personality. But of course, that doesn’t always hold true. Seungcheol’s been witness to a handful of Jihoon’s lowest moments, times when he’s been so sad and disconsolate, his little heart cracks open and the only way he can handle it is to scurry off into some quiet corner and sob quietly till he’s ready to face the world again.

It happens so rarely it would be easy for anyone to miss, but Seungcheol’s seen it enough times to know what the signs are, to _know_ that the waiter currently hovering over Jihoon at the refreshments table is upsetting him.

They’re speaking in low voices, to quiet to discern from across the room, but the waiter is clearly inside Jihoon’s precisely-defined personal space. _His_ space. Speaking intensely, totally focused on Jihoon, and Seungcheol can’t shake the feeling that it’s a far from pleasant conversation. Jihoon’s discomfort is palpable enough to make Seungcheol's fists clench. Then the man puts a hand on Jihoon's arm and Seungcheol has to stop himself from speeding across the room to knock it away.

"You know, if you stare at them any harder, one of them's going to burst into flames."

Seungcheol reluctantly turns his gaze back to Seungmin who is looking at him with concern. He lays a hand on Seungcheol's arm in a mirror image of what Seungcheol had just seen the waiter do. He suddenly feels foolish.

"Cheol? What’s wrong?”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his champagne and jerks his head towards the table. "It’s probably nothing, I just…I can’t help but feel that waiter’s making Jihoon uncomfortable.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Seungmin nods knowingly, “He is acting awfully familiar. Maybe they know each other?”

“Yeah, _maybe_.” Seungcheol mutters, staring at the table with a frown that is slow to fade.

He wills himself to relax, barely aware his normally steel-armoured self-control is dissolving away. But as he continues to watch Jihoon and the unknown man, it becomes clear they’re in disagreement about _something_ , especially when Jihoon shakes his head emphatically and scurries away, slipping between the crowds towards the open balcony.

After a moment, the waiter sets his tray of drinks down and _follows_ him, a troubling look on his face, and without a word Seungcheol shoves his glass of champagne into Seungmin’s hand and takes off after them.

He’s aware, as he goes, that his shoulders are a little too stiff and square. He probably looks ready for a fight, but there’s no helping it. Seungcheol’s never been much of an actor and even if he was, there’s something about Jihoon that’s always made him gut-level overprotective.

The most diplomatic course of action would be to whisk Jihoon away, keep him close by so that he won’t have to interact with this man again. But all thoughts of diplomacy quickly take a back seat when he steps out on the balcony and sees the waiter has Jihoon cornered against the railing, one hand holding his wrist in a death grip.

“I don’t get what your problem is Jihoon,” The waiter is hissing, “I was only asking you for a favour. Whatever happened between us should be water under the bridge by now, so maybe you should just let it go and grow the fuck up.”

Seungcheol steps between them, reminding himself that he’s not allowed to throw people off balconies, no matter how much they upset his precious little Peanut. Somehow, he still ends up grabbing the waiter by the collar and shoving him backwards, taking no care for the state of the guy’s skull as he slams him hard against a concrete column.

Satisfaction sings through his chest at the sight of wide eyes, genuine fear flashing in the man's face as Seungcheol looms over him, twisting his fingers hard around the man’s throat.

“You have ten seconds to get out of my face or you’ll find yourself reaching the ground floor the fast way, which is it going to be asshole?” Seungcheol grits out, squeezing tighter just for a moment. Just enough to make terror snap brighter in wide eyes, before he steps back and away, letting the man fall hard on his knees.

Not a second later, the waiter is scrambling back up to his feet, tripping over himself in his haste to reach the balcony doors. Seungcheol doesn’t have to keep watching him to know he won’t step foot inside the party again. Hell, if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll flee the entire country.

Fixing his cuffs, Seungcheol turns his attention to the other side of the balcony, back towards Jihoon, who’s still standing frozen in place, staring at him with open wonder. He’d been watching the entire moment play out in stunned silence, but now, as Seungcheol closes this distance between them, his face shifts slowly from active surprise to something closer to pathetically grateful.

Nothing would please Seungcheol more if his little Peanut wasn’t clutching his wrist, rubbing it a little, like it _hurt_.

"Are you all right?" Seungcheol asks, taking a careful step closer.

It takes every scrap of exhausted self-control to stop himself from reaching out and dragging Jihoon into a hug; he's not entirely sure it’s the right time—can't read nonverbal cues reliably under the circumstances. He is not confident Jihoon wants to be touched right now, and he won't chance it without confirmation.

"Yeah, I’m fine," Jihoon says. But he sounds wrong. Lost. And a moment later he looks unbearably sad as he says, "I'm sorry I dragged you away from your party Seungcheol. You can go back inside now, I’ll be okay.”

Seungcheol has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping _‘I don’t give a fuck about the party! I’m only here for you’_. That’s probably not going to put that carefree smile back on his little Peanut’s face. “Who was that piece of shit? Why was he pestering you?” He asks instead, although he already has a good guess.

A moment of quiet strings taut before the answer comes. 

“His—his name is Sehun, he’s my ex-boyfriend.” Jihoon darts a glance at him, a hesitant expression in his eyes. “He wanted me to put in a good word for him, so he could get a job in Choi Corp. But—but I said I wouldn’t.”

Seungcheol hums a sound that means _keep going_. Not impatient, not demanding, just…needing a little more to work with here. But instead of saying anything more, Jihoon turns away a little, wrapping his arms around himself, looking small and restless and distracted.

“I—I take it things didn’t end _well_?” Seungcheol prompts, easing nearer, still not quite touching.

Jihoon breathes a wounded sort of laugh, looking shaky and nervous at the memory. “You could say that. It’s probably very mean of me to not help him, but I just couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing him everyday at work. Having to be cordial with him after he—" He tapers off then, with a too rough shake of his head, like he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

Seungcheol stares at him helplessly, not quite sure what to make of it all. Even less sure of what to say to make Jihoon feel better. Probably there isn't anything he _can_ say, even if he was a man less clumsy and careless and stupid with his words. He’s never been good at offering comfort, even when he really tries, and with Jihoon it feels like he’s been handed a bird’s egg, like he is cupping it close and keeping it safe and desperately trying to avoid closing his fist around it for fear of breaking it open.

So Jihoon’s not on good terms with his ex—that’s hardly an unusual state of affairs. Not every breakup is smooth, and not everybody likes being reminded of their poor life choices. S _till_ —that doesn’t explain why Jihoon’s so fragile right now. Surely bumping into your ex wouldn’t leave you _this_ upset?

Unless….

Oh.

Seungcheol nearly bites his lower lip bloody at the molten-hot fury sweeping through him.

Suddenly it all makes sense and Seungcheol……Seungcheol is so fucking _livid_.

“I should have thrown him off the fucking balcony.” He finally hears himself say, shaky with anger. But it’s the wrong thing to say, the wrong time for anger—too soon and too much for Jihoon to handle, and before Seungcheol can finally reach out to comfort him, he quickly pushes past him, tears brimming in his eyes.

* * *

Jihoon wishes he were less sober as he makes his way through the vast, high-ceilinged room that contains the heart of the party. The buzz of alcohol might dull the claustrophobic anxiety that has suddenly gripped him, help him ignore the curious look sent his way, but he hasn’t dared to indulge tonight. He feels too responsible for the logistics of the party, never mind the risk of making an ass out of himself in front of Seungcheol.

 _Again_.

So the only relief he will permit himself is to find a quiet place to…..to _regroup_.

Not _cry_.

He’s not going to cry about this. He’s not.

He just needs somewhere quiet to think it out, just for a little while, because he’s a big boy now. Wait, no, he’s an _adult_ —and adults don't run out of parties crying just because something catches them unawares and makes them feel like crap. Adults, as it turns out, deal with their unwanted emotions by finding a bathroom to hide in. ☹

Jihoon closes the door, opens the tap, and braces himself against the sink with his eyes closed. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but the sound of running water filling the small space, filling the hollows of his mind until there is no room for thought, until the urge to cry hysterically and call his mom subsides and floats away.

For a few minutes, he doesn't have to think or feel anything, and it’s good. He can do this—he’s an adult!

“Hey, you okay?”

The question comes from Jeonghan, who has materialized like magic in the shadowy corner of the bathroom Jihoon has taken refuge in. There's something far too perceptive in his voice; he obviously didn’t just happen to come across Jihoon sniffing quietly in the bathroom. Seungcheol sent him.

Jihoon wipes his eyes and makes himself look up, taking the two seconds to fold all of it, everything he knows he's so close to giving away, into an origami crane in his chest and tuck it out of sight.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He murmurs, attempting a smile that immediately falls flat. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me. I just needed a minute I guess.”

Jeonghan smiles back, but his eyes dark and worried and tender in a way that hurts like a half-healed cut. “It’s okay Jihoonie. That jackass that was bothering you is gone now. Seungcheol’s taken care of him.”

Jihoon takes a deep breath and lets it out, bringing one hand up to cover his face, relieved that he won’t have to face Sehun again tonight. Then Jeonghan's words hit him, full force.

“Oh…oh no. What did Seungcheol _do_?”

Not that he particularly _cares_ what happens to Sehun—Sehun can go to hell—he’s more worried about how much trouble _Seungcheol_ would get in for drop kicking Sehun off the balcony. Jeonghan seems to register his concerns and chuckles quietly, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t kill anybody. He spoke to management, had the guy fired and kicked off the premises. Though I suspect with how angry he still is, homicide was his first choice and his brother _just_ managed to talk him out of it.”

Worrying his lip, Jihoon stares down at his shoes. “He—he didn’t have to do that. I don’t want Seungcheol compromising himself because I’m sad about something. It all happened so long ago it doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softens unexpectedly, and he reaches out to pet Jihoon’s head. “Maybe—but it was obviously bad enough that you’re still cut up about it, and you must know by now Seungcheol would never stand for you being unhappy. Or do you really think it was just a coincidence that everyone who is horrible to you gets the sack?”

And, just like that, all of the oxygen in the bathroom seems to disappear.

“W—What?” Jihoon chokes, feeling suddenly dizzy. He stares at Jeonghan in helpless confusion. “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan actually seems a bit flustered for a moment, as though he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud. “Oh, c’mon you must have—” he begins brashly, then cuts himself off. “I was sure you would have figured it out after that jackass from the CCCC left.”

"I — _excuse me?_ " Jihoon squeaks, his eyes bugging out. “He fired Chul Moo?”

Jeonghan takes a deep breath, as though he’s about to launch into a lengthy explanation, but he stops there. “Well, actually, Chul Moo resigned before we could have him fired, but that’s only because Seungcheol was intent on making his work life extremely unbearable in every way possible. It was a long time coming if I’m being honest. HR had gotten so many complaints about his conduct, even Jisoo was happy to see the back of him.”

Jihoon’s jaw goes a bit slack as he swallows, thinking back on how everyone had gossiped about overhearing Chul-moo’s heated employee review—how he’d had his work load tripled and his salary docked without warning, and how he’d been passed over for a promotion he was pretty certain he was due. It all makes sense now.

Seungcheol had intervened on his behalf, but…..how did he _know_? How did he find out Chul-moo had been picking on Jihoon in the first place? Someone else in the CCCC must have told him, because Jihoon certainly never said anything, and Chul-moo too clever to be outwardly antagonistic like—

“Mustard blouse!” says Jihoon, his voice going high-pitched and frantic as he puts two and two together, “That was him too, wasn’t it?”

Jeonghan’s brows pinch, “Eh, Mustard Blouse?”

“Oh, well, I never found out what her real name was, but she was really mean to me for no reason, used to trip me up in the corridors and stick post it notes on my back. When I saw her get escorted out by security, I’d thought that you’d—"

“Ah, the staple thief.” Jeonghan muses, grinning. “I know you thought it was me at the time, but that was all Seungcheol’s work. I was pretty surprised myself when I found out actually; I never expected him to pay attention to anyone but himself back then, but apparently the janitor tipped him off that someone had been bothering you, and since the lady in question had pretty exemplary record up until that point, he couldn’t just have her fired without creating an issue. So he planted the staples in her car and then hacked into my computer and sent an email to the office supply manager, requesting a random employee search for suspected theft. Pretty ingenious if you ask me—especially when you consider how he had to steal her car keys from her purse, then get them back to her without her noticing them missing, _and_ avoid being caught on CCTV at the same time. It still blows my mind when I think about it; I don’t think I could have pulled that stunt off.”

Jihoon chokes out a laugh, but it comes out strained and wrong. Shaken. He feels like his whole world's been upended with this onslaught of new information. “That’s….that’s _crazy_.”

Jeonghan shoots a sidelong glance at him and smirks, “What can I say, he’s crazy about you.”

Something bursts like a dam inside Jihoon as he says this sentence, and all semblance of control he’s managed to shore up is destroyed. He looks down and sees his hands shaking, feels his breath catching and his vision wavering with tears, and it’s like the instant before a long fall — he knows he’s going to fly apart before it happens. He has a burning need to find Seungcheol and … and … and _something_. Kiss him or pat him on the arm or touch his hand or anything at all. Instead he drops his face into his hands and cries.

He can hear Jeonghan trying to console him, murmuring _‘Oh shit, I’m sorry, please don’t cry! He can smell your tears!’_ clearly panicking for all the wrong reasons. Then, as if on cue, he hears the bathroom door swing open and Seungcheol’s voice joins the tumble of too much information in his head.

“Hannie, what the hell did you do? You were meant to comfort him, not make him more upset you _moron_.”

Jihoon startles, wiping his eyes to look up at the man who’s been, _apparently_ , firing people left right and centre for his sake. Seungcheol’s expression is actually _murderous_ , eyes wide and piercing as he glares at poor Jeonghan, who’s doing a terrible job of trying to marge with the bathroom wall.

“I don’t think they’re _sad_ tears Cheol.” Jeonghan’s saying, palms out, warding Seungcheol off or maybe just trying to get him to lower his voice, “I think he’s maybe just a little overwhelmed.”

“Well they _look_ like sad tears.” Seungcheol hisses, then seems to notice Jihoon’s watching him now, and not crying so much anymore, and his murderous frown melts into something sweet and soft. He takes a careful step forward, eyes making a slow circuit of Jihoon's face, as if waiting for permission, then lays his hand on Jihoon’s arm and lowers his voice to a soothing tone, “Are you sad? Are those sad tears? Did Jeonghan make you sad? You can tell me—I’ll kill him!”

Jihoon sniffles and shakes his head, torn between wanting to grab Seungcheol by the shoulders to shake some sense into him and wanting to burst out laughing at his sheer overprotective _ridiculousness_.

Instead, he finds himself leaning into Seungcheol’s warmth, ignoring the look of surprise that crosses the man’s face as he reaches up with shaking hands to fist Seungcheol’s lapels and drag him into a hug. He wonders if it’s a mistake when he hears Seungcheol’s breath stutter in his chest, but then there’s a wonderful heat enveloping him as Seungcheol wraps his arms around him, hugging him back tightly. 

* * *

They manage a graceful exit from the party, which will likely continue well into the night despite his absence, and for once Seungcheol’s life he’s grateful for Janna’s love of theatrics.

She’d come bursting into the bathrooms when she heard Jihoon was upset, taken one look at him clinging to Seungcheol’s jacket, his sweet, tear-soaked face and took it upon herself to create an excellent distraction. Marching back in the party, she swung her purse into the tower of champagne glasses and sent them crashing, drawing the attention of the guests long enough for Seungcheol to guide Jihoon out.

Jihoon had considerably calmed down once they reached the relative privacy of the elevator, reduced to quiet, little sniffles. He was far from ready to face a roomful of guests however, and since Seungcheol had no desire to and spend the rest of the party without him, they called it a night.

Silence fills the car for the first several blocks. Not quite comfortable, but not noticeably strained either. Seungcheol's thoughts are distracted and heavy as he steers the car through back through the city, one eye on the road, one on his little companion, who, oddly, seems to have developed a new fascination with Seungcheol’s left ear.

Well, that’s what Seungcheol _thinks_ anyway, because he can’t think of another reason why Jihoon keeps staring at the side of his face, and sighing, like— _happily_? Like he really likes Seungcheol’s left ear. Like it’s done something _amazing_ by simply existing on his face? Personally, Seungcheol doesn’t really like his ears; he’s always felt they’re his worst feature because they stick out, and rather obviously too. Especially after he gets his hair cut short, which kind of suck and limits what style he can pull off. But Jihoon really seems to be in love with his left ear, and _there’s_ that happy little sigh again.

Eventually, a few blocks away from their destination, Jihoon clears his throat. “I got you a Birthday present.”

Seungcheol stops thinking about his ears, returns his attention to _here_ and now, and hears himself ask, “I thought the party _was_ my birthday present.”

But Jihoon only giggles and shakes his head, “Of course not. I got you a proper Birthday present. Well actually, I got you _two_ birthday presents, but one is just a phone charm that lights up when someone rings, you know, to help you find your phone when it’s on silent. I got you another present too. That’s the _main_ present.”

Grinning, Seungcheol takes his eyes off the road long enough to throw Jihoon a sideways glance, “Well, what is it?”

Jihoon makes a complicated face. “I—I can’t really _tell_ you. I have to show you.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol drawls, eyes flickering towards the passenger seat. He's holding the steering wheel too hard, trying not to notice the way Jihoon has shifted in his seat and is now staring intently at his profile. “Can I at least get a clue?”

Jihoon’s answering smile is slow and heavy-lidded. “It’s _pink_.”

Seungcheol’s first thought is something with Hello Kitty plastered all over it; but if the obvious answer was the right answer, Jihoon wouldn't be making him guess.

“I’m afraid that’s not much of a clue Peanut. Almost everything you buy is pink.”

“Well, technically, you’ve _seen_ it before.” Jihoon says in a tone so low it almost sounds like a purr.

Seungcheol shivers as warmth kindles in his chest. He keeps staring straight ahead through the windshield instead of giving in to the urge to see just what expression Jihoon is wearing. Maybe he’s mistaken, but it almost sounds like Jihoon’s _teasing_ him. Dare he say it, _flirting_ with him?

 _Interesting_.

He mulls that over as they close in on Jihoon’s apartment building, keeping his mouth shut even though there are a million things he’s desperate to ask and say. When they reach Jihoon’s street there is, miraculously, an open parking space only one building over from his front door. Seungcheol takes the spot but keeps the engine idling. This is the moment for innocuous goodnights and see-you-Mondays. The moment for them to part ways without awkwardness or innuendo. This is the moment for Seungcheol to prove that yes, he’s in love with his PA, but he can still keep this shit professional.

Instead, he turns of the engine and says, “Alright, I’m stumped. What is it and when can I see it?”

"Well, uhm, I was kind of hoping you could see it _tonight_ ," says Jihoon, losing a little of his confidence, "I mean, if you’re not busy that is," and then, out of _nowhere_ , just out of the clear frigging blue, he reaches over and _takes Seungcheol's hand_. “Do you want to come up for coffee?”

Seungcheol's eyes snap to Jihoon's, his whole body tensing, his mind startled and utterly blank and finds Jihoon watching him with the unblinking calm of a housecat. He doesn’t look away when Seungcheol catches his eye. But holds his gaze, steadily, with something that is almost courage. And it’s as if Seungcheol is seeing him for the first time.

Seungcheol licks his lips, mouth gone dry. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))


End file.
